Druella Gaunt and the Secret of the Black Lake
by lauramariadavis
Summary: Druella Gaunt is not a girl to be trifled with; nothing and nobody will change her mind once it's made up. Adopted into the Malfoy family as a baby, it is only logical for the curious Dru to go hunting for the secrets of her heritage. Who her parents are will change her life and the lives around her, including that of her close friend's: Harry Potter... (set in Philosopher's Stone)
1. 31st July, 1980

We don't own Harry Potter. Any characters, places, dialogue or events you recognise from canon are not ours; we really can't stress this enough. Everything you recognise is the brainchild of J.K. Rowling and credit goes to her for their existence.

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'_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'__  
__~ Sybill Trelawney, 1980_

31st July, 1980. Voldemort found himself in a meeting with his closest servants with more than just a slight feeling of trepidation. Bellatrix, his most loyal subject, had been retired from active duty for the past three months and had been confined to the walls of Malfoy Manor, and was therefore unable to be present at the meeting. He was desperately tracing the location of two of the couples that could be responsible for the birth of the child mentioned in the prophecy. Severus had done well to warn him of the prophecy, he mused as his Death Eaters pored over maps and scout reports. So far, he had managed to whittle down the potential parents of the child named in the prophecy to three couples- Frank and Alice Longbottom, Lily and James Potter, and... Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman carrying _his_child. Bellatrix had refused to let anyone determine the gender of the baby, having got the idea quite firmly in her mind that it should be a 'surprise'. Some twisted surprise, he cursed internally, but he could hardly tell her of the prophecy, and he had not dared to endanger the life of his unborn child by forcing her to follow orders. She had hardly been his first choice for the task, being neither the most attractive or the sanest of his followers, but she was the only one willing to perform this most important of tasks, although when she had been retired from active duty she had hardly been impressed.

One of his men was just about to speak, and then the door burst open with a bang, rattling in its frame. Rodolphus Lestrange stood in the doorway, red-faced and panting. He took a huge gulp of air.

"Lord... the baby. Your child is coming, sir."

Voldemort's heart stopped. "Very well, Lestrange," he said. "I will be there shortly."

He instructed his Death Eaters to continue with the research, determined that the child his servant was bearing would not be- could not be- the child of the prophecy. If it was a boy, he would have it killed. Gathering his robes, he swept from the room, letting the heavy door bang as it shut behind him. His followers, most of whom were present in the Manor, scurried from view as they saw the look on his face. The corridors around the bedroom-turned-nursing-room were entirely deserted. Narcissa paced outside the room, waiting for him. She turned sharply on her heel and stopped as she saw him arrive.

'My Lord,' Narcissa Malfoy greeted him upon his arrival. She was one of the few who were not preparing Bellatrix for birth. 'Your child will be here soon.'

'Yes,' he muttered, distracted. He did not want small talk from the woman certain she was only a part of his cause for fear of disgracing both the Malfoy and Black family names. After a moment of thinking, he continued quietly, more to himself than to the witch. 'She will be the most powerful witch of her generation.'

That may have been one of the closest things to fatherly the Dark Lord would ever say of his only child.

"Lord, you cannot know- even Bella..." Narcissa trailed off, trying to choose her words carefully. "We do not know the gender of the child."

"It will be a girl. I will not have a son," he told her firmly.

Narcissa worried at her lip. Bella would not like that idea, but she knew better than to question the Dark Lord again. She stood outside the heavy wooden door for a moment longer in thought and then pushed it open. Bellatrix's furious screeching poured forth. She was ranting almost incoherently about 'respecting the Dark Lord's seed' and Narcissa rolled her eyes. "My Lord, she will not be quiet. Or sit still. This isn't pain- she simply won't allow the healers near her. She insists it is disrespectful of them to insist she will need help with the birth..." Narcissa trailed off as the Dark Lord looked up from where he stood in the hall, his eyes flashing.

"I will handle Bellatrix. You will ensure the healers do their job. Let me pass."

"Yes, Lord," she affirmed as Voldemort swept past her into the dark room. On the large bed Bella twisted, screeching incoherently about respect. Healers were trying- unsuccessfully- to hold her still and monitor his child, but she would not stay calm. The Dark Lord strode to the end of the bed and then stared at the woman carrying his child.

"Bellatrix!" he commanded. "You will cease your blathering at once and remain calm while my child is born! I will not let you risk it's life."

Bella fell silent as Voldemort spoke. She looked lucid as she returned his icy glare with deference, but Voldemort knew how easily his most loyal subject could fly off the handle about a potential disrespect to her Lord and his property. And right now, the most important possession he had was sitting inside her belly. He supposed she would have every reason to be protective of it- after all, he had told her of the pain he would make her face should she fail him in this task by needlessly endangering the precious burden she carried.

He kept his gaze pinned on her as the healers bustled around the room. He barely spared a glance at the furnishings of the room, having been in there only a week previously to decide where his child would be born. It was furnished in a rich warm green, fitting for the next heir of Slytherin, with green curtains and a dark bedspread the colour of pine needles. The carpet in this room was several shades of green, twisting together like snakes writhing in a mass. The bed was large enough that there would be enough space for the healers to get to her. While none of the rooms in Malfoy Manor could be considered small, this one was particularly spacious, with a space well away from the bed with seats in case the birth became problematic or the Dark Lord needed to sit for any length of time. He insisted he would be present during the birth. Yes, the room was fitting, he thought as he stared down at the half-crazed woman in the bed with the healers fussing over her. Narcissa stood a little to his left, wringing her hands in fear. The birth of her sons had both been problematic and this had undoubtedly brought painful memories to the fore of her mind- as well as the worry that she might lose the only sister she had left.

A healer brushed his side as she scurried to the window to pull open the curtain enough to read the label on one of the more smudged bottles of potion that they had brought. She visibly recoiled in fear and Voldemort wanted to spit in her face and curse her then and there, but he forced himself to think of the potential gain of his child and instead smiled wanly at her. She forced herself to smile shakily back and then shot to the window, breathing heavily. He made a mental note to visit her personally in the dungeons below Malfoy Manor, where the healers were headed after their job was complete. He had led those he had kidnapped from St Mungo's unwillingly to believe they would be returning to their jobs after nothing more than a simple _Obliviate_. In truth, those who were not on his side were never returning home again. In fact, none of those who were there from St Mungo's could be trusted. The knowledge that this child would be his was to be kept safe until the correct time, when it would be old enough to understand the glory of its heritage.

The birth moved along smoothly. Bellatrix, not one to flinch in the face of pain for her master, endured what he could only imagine as crippling physical agony with almost no sound of complaint. The healers worried around her and Narcissa stood to the side, her features twisted into a mask of half-panic. Voldemort cared little; he wanted his child and he wanted it to be a girl. With every passing moment the tendrils of fear that had crept through his mind after Severus had told him of the prophecy tightened their grip on him. Fear was an unusual emotion, something he had rarely felt if at all, and he found himself tapping his foot impatiently to try and distract himself from the worry. His mind slipped from the moment to consideration of his horcruxes and their safety in the dark room. The noise that brought him back to reality was a sharp wail. The child had taken its first breath and screamed- all the signs of a healthy baby, and yet the healers and especially Narcissa still had worry etched onto their faces as they checked the baby for the gender.

He tensed, waiting anxiously. This was the only flaw in his plan. Narcissa stood over the healer, verifying what they saw. The waiting seemed to him to take years as he looked at the backs of the white robes of the healer and Narcissa's dress. Then she turned, slowly, and he looked blankly at her face, revealing nothing-

"The child is female, my Lord. You have a daughter."

Voldemort smiled indulgently. Perfection. His daughter could not be the child mentioned in the prophecy Severus had brought him, and therefore was the perfect weapon. She would be used well. He stood and took the bundle of cloth that Narcissa handed him with the squirming child inside, and looked down at it coolly. He felt nothing as he held it, not even a small flicker of fondness. After all, the child was essentially useless until it grew and could use magic. He handed the bundle to Bellatrix who began to croon over it.

"Precious, you are going to be just as good a witch as your mother, and you shall love your Lord and father more than I ever could for he is part of you-"

"Bellatrix."

She fell instantly silent and looked up at him. The healers were being led out of the room now to their deaths, and the only three people left in the room were Bellatrix, Narcissa and Voldemort. "Yes, my Lord? Did I perform well?"

"You bore my child, as I asked. Yes, you will gain a reward. But remember, Bellatrix; the child is mine. She will be a Gaunt, not a Lestrange or a Black. Druella Gaunt is to be her name."

"Druella _Bellatrix_," whined Bellatrix instantly. "Let that be my reward, my Lord, I have served you well, Mother and I always said you were the first wizard to see sense in years..."

"Very well. Druella Bellatrix Gaunt. Narcissa, make a note of her name and the date and time of her birth."

"Yes, Lord," Narcissa replied, scurrying from the room to obey.

The Dark Lord looked at the plan forming in the body of the tiny baby that Bellatrix was cooing over with a sense of dry satisfaction. This decision had played out in his favour, despite his fears that his child would be the child of the prophecy. His daughter would be incredibly useful, especially as he was certain that nobody knew of his relation to the Gaunt line. They would not suspect a thing.

Druella Bellatrix Gaunt would be a very important witch, of that he would make sure. Striding from the room and leaving Bellatrix holding Druella, he turned his mind firmly to the prospect of finding the one who the prophecy referred to, and removing the threat to him and his heir.

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_Hi everyone! Laura here, back from the depths of university work and paid work to deliver to you a brand new fanfic, with my vastly improved writing. Well, as much as my writing has come forward in quality I can't take all the credit - this fanfic is an alteration of the Harry Potter universe that I am working on with my friend Lissa ( lissdark on twitter) and tbh most of the epic writing's most likely hers because she's much better at writing than I am. Anyway, I hope you like this! We'd prefer it if you read this on AO3 (our username is lissandlaura and it's the only fanfic we have posted) but I suppose here's good too. If you're interested we have a tumblr for this fanfic called druellabellatrixgaunt, so if you'd give that a follow that'd be pretty cool. –Laura_

_We're planning to rewrite all seven novels. This is hopefully the first of many, many chapters; but both Laura and I are full-time university students based about 100 miles (two hours travel) from one another. We'll update as often as we can, but please be understanding if we slow down during term time. Of course, as the books progress the reading age will probably raise and archive warnings will be needed because things get... understandably dark, at the end of the series. Enjoy!__  
__-Liss x_


	2. Diagon Alley

While Dru and Draco always expected to be accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when the owl arrives during their breakfast in the smallest of the two dining rooms in the Manor the morning shifts from boredom into excitement. Lucius rolls his eyes fondly at them as they dance around the table excitedly and returns to his eggs. Narcissa primly dabs at her mouth with a napkin, removing imaginary crumbs from her thin lips, and then smiles broadly at them both.

"Congratulations, my darlings. We shall have to travel to Diagon Alley shortly. Dobby!" she calls, and Dobby appears with a snap of his fingers and a puff of smoke seconds later.

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy? How may Dobby serve?"

"Fetch me two short lengths of parchment, a black inkwell and two quills, if you would."

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy!"

"Now then, Draco, Dru, why don't you write back to Professor McGonagall yourselves to confirm your places?"

Lucius rolls his eyes again at his children, both of whom and then looks up as another owl arrives, carrying The Daily Prophet and a letter addressed to him. He reads it and his frown deepens. "Narcissa, dearest. Do you have any pressing social engagements today?"

"Not today. Why do you ask?"

"I do believe we can find time today to make a trip to Diagon Alley for the childrens' Hogwarts equipment."

"Can we really, Father? Can we get an owl, too?" asks Draco.

"Yes, I suppose you can get an owl. Dru will have one of her own, of course."

Diagon Alley is heaving when the Malfoys arrive, much to Lucius' disdain. As he turns his nose up at the various lesser wizards surrounding them, Narcissa takes heed with their children and where they are going. Dru's fingers begin to cramp in her Aunt's tight clasp; but she finds that she doesn't mind as much as she usually would – never has she ever seen the shopping plaza so _full_. It seems that all the term equipment lists have been sent out to the whole school along with the acceptance letters to the future first-years. Everywhere she turns there are wizards in robes of all colours, some adorning their Hogwarts House colours on scarves, gloves and the like as they proudly carry around their books for the start of term. She finds herself thinking about the equipment list in her pocket and has to suppress a giddy smile.

They start off in Gringotts, of course. Lucius goes down to the vaults alone, so whilst they wait Dru tunes in-and-out to the conversation her Aunt and Draco are having. Draco is sniggering under his breath at the goblins; the odd one or two that overhear him shoot filthy glances his way. Dru watches her Aunt quietly remind her son to be polite and rolls her eyes. Dru is very fond of her adopted brother, all the more so now that Draco's eldest brother, Pavo, has disowned the family. For all that they are closer now they've endured Lucius' wrath together, Dru still thinks he can be insufferably stupid sometimes. As she wonders what they would do to him if they heard him cackling at the size of their noses, her Uncle Lucius returns with a purse full of shiny, golden coins. Draco's eyes are greedy, but Dru barely bats an eyelid before turning to enter the Alley once more.

Their next stop is Flourish and Blotts. Dru has always loved books, so as she roams the shelves looking for the books for first-years and pulling pristine copies from the shelves, she notices more than a few titles she'd like to read. Thankfully, the deep Malfoy purse allows her to purchase all of them. She's more than thankful for her Aunt encouraging her reading. Where Draco is not allowed to buy the books he wants under his father's hawklike gaze- "You aren't reading that filth, Draco, _please_ pick something a little more suitable for your status"- Dru puts every book that catches her eye into the bag for Narcissa to buy her. She also collects several of the books Draco was looking at, an act that earns her a warm smile from her Aunt. As Narcissa and Lucius take the books to the till to pay for them, Dru turns to her brother.

"Uncle Lucius is being a complete pig today," she murmurs to him.

"Father always is a troll whenever we have to go shopping as a family. Don't you remember shopping for Pav? We all had to go, and it was always horrific."

"I bought you some of the books you were looking at while he wasn't looking," Dru whispers to him.

He turns to her with a genuine grin. Draco is terrified of his father, but Dru is not scared of him, and it works out in their favour every time. Dru does the dirty work; she's always been the one who'll run the schemes, fetching and hiding and collecting behind her Uncle's back to get her and her brother what they want. Draco picks up the pieces with his mother's help. Hopefully, though, Dru will get away with the books just this once. They watch curiously as Narcissa shows the contents of the bag to the man running the till. Lucius seems uninterested, watching out of the window at the people shopping. Draco physically relaxes when the man hands Narcissa the change for all the books.

"Here you are, Dru darling. I bought you and Draco a new bookmark, too, black leather, isn't it lovely? Here, put them in your bag."

As the heavy books are placed into her charmed bag, Dru finds herself thankful magic exists. Without it, she'd never have been able to carry everything, and she knows for a fact her Uncle would never have helped her. No, he's far too busy looking down his nose at everyone walking by them in the street to actually be helpful shopping.

"Right, it's time for robe fittings," Lucius says curtly as they leave the welcoming bookshop behind.

"Not today," Draco whines. He turns to Narcissa. "Mother, you said we could come back to do that closer to the date. You said we were only here to get everything _else_!"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, if you don't rethink your attitude then I shall be forced to reject your place at Hogwarts. Don't try to tell me you think I wouldn't. You really think I couldn't sweep it under the carpet? I've dealt with worse slights to the Malfoy name," Lucius snaps, glaring coolly at his son. Draco shuts up with all complaints after that, looking hurt and almost tearful. Dru feels a familiar sense of anger flare on behalf of her cousin. She knows that her adopted parents miss their eldest son, especially on days like today, but the way he treats them both is unfair. She wants to yell at him to stop making Draco upset, to stop making him doubt everything he does to try and be a good son and picking on his flaws at every opportunity he gets. She doesn't give a damn about herself- she's always felt like an outsider in the Malfoy family because of the mystery of her heritage- but she hates to see her adopted brother still being hurt because Lucius misses the son he lost. She knows better than to speak, though. Bringing up Pavo is a very bad idea around Lucius, even if Draco is terrified of his father because he still feels like he lives in his exiled brother's shadow. She and Draco traipse along Diagon Alley a few steps behind Lucius and Narcissa glumly until they reach Madam Malkin's establishment.

Dru has her robes fitted first with little complaint – the only time she says anything worth getting shouted at over is when she curses at Madam Malkin for accidentally poking her with a pin. Aunt 'Cissa just glares at her, and Dru is eternally thankful that her Uncle isn't actually in the shop, or she'd have earned a lecture on 'respectability' that she's heard so many times in the past year she could probably recite it word for word alongside him.

The other child who'd been having their robe fitted alongside Dru leaves with her parents in tow just as Draco steps up on the podium, sighing loudly. Dru's mood shifts from bad to worse. She does love her brother and gets fiercely protective of him, but he's a petulant brat when he wants to be and she hates it. He slumps sulkily, sticking his hands in his pockets and moping in front of the mirror. It takes Madam Malkin some time to get him to stand up straight, so Dru decides to tune out her brother's complaints and tugs out _A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration. _She's already expecting to have to work hard to earn respect, in whatever House she's put in, and besides, Transfiguration has always interested her. The bell above the door rings loudly, meaning someone else has entered the shop. Dru looks up expecting it to be her Uncle, but it's just another boy here for his first robes. She loses herself in her book once more, taking no note of whatever it is Draco says to him as they have their robes fitted together.

It's when Draco shouts "I say, look at that man!" that Dru lifts her head once more. There, standing by the window of _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_, is the _biggest_ man she's ever seen. She has read of giants before and for a few seconds honestly believes he has to be one, but then the exact words of description come back to her and she realises with a twinge of disappointment that he's far too small to be a _real_ giant. She finds herself oddly fascinated with his appearance and his eccentric behaviour- he is excitedly pointing at Fortescue's ice cream parlour. His eyes are on the boy Draco is speaking to, the one who entered not long ago for his robes, so she turns to him. There's not much about him, really, she thinks. He's of average height with black hair just as unkempt as her own can be and horrific round glasses that make him look kind of owlish. _Muggleborn,_ she thinks to herself, rolling her eyes and turning back to her book. Transfiguration is far more interesting than her brother trying to make friends.

Once Lucius re-joins them they set off for Ollivanders Wand Shop, shoving their way through the hustle and bustle of the crowded alley. It is a very slender shop; hanging above the front window are peeling, golden letters that read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 __BC. _Dru has passed this shop during many travels to Diagon Alley, always wondering what it is like on the inside. In her mind, having a wand makes her a proper witch, although her Uncle has always insisted her pureblood status makes her a 'true witch', whatever that means. They step through the door to the welcoming notes of a tinkling bell and a musty scent that reminds her of the old library back home, except there is a slightly _magical _addition. It is as though the sentiments of the wands held within are clinging to the dust motes in the air. Dru finds herself entranced by the thousands of tiny boxes piled upon one another behind the wooden counter, until a voice floats through to them.

"Good afternoon!" it calls softly from somewhere in the maze of wand boxes. Dru jumps a little at its suddenness, although he is speaking gently. Dru looks around for the source of the voice and out of nowhere an old man is suddenly stood before them. He's short; only a few inches taller than Dru herself, and stooped. His skin is more wrinkly than anything Dru's ever seen and he looks unimaginably old, but when his gaze lands on Dru his eyes are bright and piercing.

"Hello," Narcissa says curtly, more than slightly flustered at his sudden appearance. "We are here for their first wands."

"Of course, Mrs Malfoy!" cries the old man, his gaze switching from Dru to address Narcissa. "Elm and dragon heartstring, yes? Ah, it only seems a moment ago that your wand chose you... and Mr Malfoy, Elm and unicorn hair – yet you don't seem to be using it any more…" He eyes Lucius' cane disapprovingly. Lucius shifts slightly under his gaze and then glares at him impatiently. Then he turns to Draco.

"And here is young Draco. Welcome to the world of magic, sir, yes indeed, there are undoubtably great things ahead in your future! We shall find you a suitable wand, indeed. I wonder if Elm runs in the family? Ah, just a moment!'

And then Ollivander is off, roaming shelves, muttering to himself in mumbled tones and dancing around the shop until he settles on the first wand, pulling the lid from the box and carrying it back to him reverently. "Here we are – Elm and Dragon Heartstring, nine and a half inches, slightly flexible. Give it a wave!"

Draco does as he's told, eyeing the wand with a hungry excitement that has Dru silently wishing she'd been the one to go first. Angry-looking red sparks shoot out of the end, and everyone ducks away from Draco, who looks at the wand in confusion.

"No, no, no!" Ollivander mumbles, taking the wand back from the boy and flicking through his collection once more. "Try this. Elm and Unicorn Hair, eleven inches, unyielding."

Once again Draco waves the wand; every box in a ten foot radius throws its lid onto the floor, and the wand then proceeds to fly out of his hands and straight back in to its box. Draco stares after the wand with indignantly as if offended by the piece of wood. Dru snorts at the thought and receives a dirty look from her brother.

"I don't think Elm _is_ your type," Ollivander concludes. "Here, let us try something a little different…" He is gone for some time, this time, but when he returns he is holding a very neat-looking wand. Dru can't help drawing the comparison between her brother's perfectly put-together appearance and the sleek wand.

'Hawthorn and Unicorn Hair, ten inches, reasonably pliant – give it a try!'

When Draco waves the wand this time, every lid thrown on the floor flies back to its place in a quick, neat bundle. Ollivander claps merrily and Draco smiles. "There you are, wonderful!"

Then Ollivander turns his wide eyes on to Dru, who stares back at him defiantly. Dru expects him to speak after a few moments, but the strange thing is that he just gazes at her for quite some time. In fact, he stands there for so long that she begins to wonder whether or not he is stuck there – but then he releases a breath and straightens up a little more.

"Druella Gaunt." He says it as though tasting the syllables. "Yes, I know just the wand for you." He leaves for a moment; when he returns he's holding a white wand. "Yew and Dragon Heartstring, twelve inches, unyielding."

Dru feels a sense of unease as she takes the wand. Something about the look in Ollivander's eyes has unnerved her. She takes a breath to steady her nerves and flicks the wand determinedly. Every drawer in the room flies open in response, some flying from their place and clattering across the room in the group's direction. Much like with Draco, the Malfoys and Ollivander duck as the drawers collide with one another all around them.

"Oh dear, what a mess! Never mind, my dear. Never mind!" Ollivander seems oddly happy about the mess she's created; Dru would almost say he sounds relieved. She brushes off his odd behaviour and focuses on what he's doing as he roots through more boxes. She cares more about discovering which wand is for her than the strange old man's behavioural habits. Narcissa waves her wand and puts the drawers back into their proper places as Ollivander hunts for another wand.

"I think… I believe I may know the wand for you..." he mumbles to himself as he hunts through boxes. He brings out another and hands it to her. "Apple and Dragon Heartstring, nine and three-quarter inches, slightly flexible. Give it a wave!"

Dru waves the wand once again and yelps as it grows incredibly hot to touch; as soon as she drops it the wand bursts in to flames. It lies smouldering, ashen, on the floor.

"Oh, my!" Ollivander looks down sadly at the wand. "The fault is mine, child. Oh, but it was a beautiful wand…"

He bends down and immediately begins looking through more boxes again, scurrying around them all.

"Hmm… I wonder…"

He pulls out a beautiful looking wand. It's a warm orange-brown colour, serpentine in shape. It looks like it's wriggling a bit, like a snake mid-slither.

"Cedar and Dragon Heartstring, twelve and a half inches, unyielding."

She takes the pretty wand and gives it a wave; it glows a warm sort of gold at the tip, and Ollivander calls out happily. They pay fourteen gold galleons for the two wands and leave the shop. Lucius is muttering about how strange Ollivander is, but Dru finds herself preoccupied with how oddly the old man acted towards _her_. Had she done something to upset him? But she couldn't have. It was as though he was upset until her wand chose her; after that he seemed to have an excitable air about him, as though he had just been told some really, really good news. She finds herself pondering that as they split from Lucius once more. Dru doesn't bother asking where he's going. In the mood he's in, he'd be like as not to beat her with a belt when they got home, and she really does not want that. She just quietly goes with her Aunt and Draco, who is fawning over his new wand.

Next up is Eeylops Owl Emporium. Narcissa instructs them that they can each pick an owl. Dru doesn't know where to start, so instead she allows Draco to choose for them both. Naturally, he picks the two biggest, most expensive owls in the shop – a girl and a boy, both with beautiful thick feathers the colour of soot, disc-like faces and strikingly yellow eyes. The man behind the till informs them they are a breed called 'Great Grey' as Narcissa hands him the money for them.

"I want the boy," Dru says, taking the handle of his cage excitedly. "We should call them Feather and Nib – like quills."

"Nib? Yours seems to be a nibbler, all right," Draco says, eyeing Dru's owl warily as it bites at the bars of its cage.

"Then yours can be Feather," she says, beaming at her cheeky pet. This will be perfect for scaring off anyone who annoys her- she can just ask him to peck people.

"Now, the owls are just for your mail – we're going to get you both another pet each." Narcissa smiles at them both as they leave the shop and head further down the street to Magical Menagerie.

"Is that allowed?" asks Dru as they wander into the tiny, cramped building.

"Lucius will sort it out for you both," she assures her. Dru is suddenly glad she is part of the Malfoy family- even only as an adopted child. Lucius' connection to Hogwarts as part of the Governors will be invaluable in the future, she thinks to herself as she leaves her Aunt's side and begins to prowl round the shop looking at potential pets. Draco stays fairly close by her as they admire the puffskein and various amphibians, but the moment he sees the cats he half-runs to them in excitement. Dru rolls her eyes. She doesn't _dislike_ cats, exactly, she just prefers other pets. Her attention drifs over to the reptiles. In a glass case complete with heating charms and beautiful obstacles for the snake inside rests a baby snake. A helpful shop assistant wanders over in her general direction.

"Perfectly friendly. Handled enough, they're docile as cats."

"What kind of snake is that one?" asks Dru, pointing at the little snake. It lifts its head from its coils lazily to watch them.

"It's called a smooth grass snake. We haven't named this one yet; she's only a baby."

"She's a girl? She's so pretty," Dru says, watching the snake as it flicks its tongue in their direction, smelling them. "I think I want her. Aunt 'Cissa? Aunt Cissa," she says, turning to her Aunt who is admiring some beautiful snails in a tank.

The helpful assistant goes to collect the snake and the vivarium for her, and she joins her brother at the cat section of the shop.

"Are you getting a cat or a kitten?"

"A kitten," Draco answers. "I want to watch it grow up."

Dru nods and then looks at the playful ball of kittens behind the glass fence. "They're cute. Which one do you want?"

Draco looks at them all and shrugs. "I can't decide. They're all cute. I like that fluffy one, right in the middle. It's really playful."

The assistant that helped Dru has finished packing the baby snake and her new vivarium away and he joins the children at the edge of the cat play-area. "The fluffy white one, there? Ah, that's the flame point Siberian Forest Cat. Beautiful cats; friendly, intelligent and playful. As she grows up, she'll stay white, but get a golden tinge to the end of her fur around her face and on her tail, like her mother over there. Yes, the one in the corner."

Draco debates between a white Siamese cat and the Siberian for some time, and then finally decides on the Siberian. He cradles the kitten in his arms once the assistant has picked it out of the group and while he collects the things it will need, just as he had for Dru. He hands Dru a box with her snake curled in it and a comfortable cage for Draco's kitten. As Draco settles her carefully into her cage, he settles on a name.

"She'll be called Casiphia."

Once Narcissa has paid the dumpy man behind the till- his eyes light up with glee when he sees the full money purse Narcissa pulls from her bags- they head back to the Leaky Cauldron, where Lucius sits awaiting their return with a coffee in hand near the corner of the pub. Narcissa orders the children a hot chocolate each and joins Lucius with a coffee of her own. Draco is crooning over Casiphia, but rather than doing the same with her snake she watches the Malfoys talk in hushed whispers. She'd love to know what Lucius is up to, but chances are he'd respond with some cutting remark that'd just leave her sulking for days, so she wisely stays quiet. She still tries to listen in, but her adopted parents are talking too quietly, so she sullenly turns to her coffee, sparing half a glance at her snake who sits curled demurely in her travel box, waiting to be let out.

As soon as they get back to Malfoy Manor she does exactly what they told them not to do- she begins to pack. She heads straight to her room and delves into her enchanted wardrobe, exploring through the endless rails of clothing. Dru loves skirts and dresses, and her wardrobe reflects that. Her preferred colour is red- it's her favourite and she seems to suit it the best, but she has many colours stored away. Not only are there colours, but there are varying styles as well- short dresses, long dresses, ball gowns, dresses for special occasions – everything she could ever imagine. Her eyes roam over the ocean of cloth as she begins to pick out things to take to Hogwarts with her. She picks out a select few of her casual dresses in varying lengths; some long, some much shorter, and then picks a few from the collection of tights- endless pairs in varying thicknesses- to deal with the weather. She picks out robes and cloaks to go with her outfits, and then some of her thicker winter ones- they're all designed to keep her warm no matter what the weather throws at her, but she's going to be living a lot further north than she's used to and she's not quite sure what to expect. She throws it all into the trunk that rests at the end of her bed. She doesn't bother to fold it- she knows that the house-elves will do that for her closer to the time.

Next she chucks in a variety of nightgowns and pyjama sets, freshly bought and yet-to-be-worn, along with a pair of fluffy green slippers that she'd pestered Lucius in to buying her a few weeks back. Shoes, too; shoes of every colour and design. No heels, though. She can never imagine wanting to walk around with sticks on the sole of her shoes just to look taller. She'd asked Aunt 'Cissa why she wore heels when she was about six years of age and Narcissa had simply chuckled in response before returning to her afternoon tea. Her confusion is yet to be rectified. She pulls her favourite winter boots from her wardrobe and looks at them, debating whether to pack them or not. She's already packed a matching pair of plain shoes for every single outfit in the trunk. She holds the boots up to the window. They are tall- they sit comfortably on her legs just a few inches underneath her knees, and they're entirely waterproof with thick laces at the front to tie them. The soles are thick and have sturdy grips. They're good for walking, something Dru loves; she has spent countless hours in the maze of the Malfoy Manor gardens, exploring and making dens the gardeners would not find. She still finds old dens now, although the gardens don't seem as infinite as they did when she was very young.

She looks into her bag full of shopping and realises with a jolt she's forgotten all about her snake. She doesn't look happy with her new owner as Dru pulls the vivarium out of the bag and hastily sets it up, double checking the heating charms are still working before opening the baby snake's tub. She tumbles out unceremoniously onto Dru's bed and hisses.

"_New lady is not nice to me. New lady forgets all about poor me._"

Dru's eyes widen in shock. "Can I... did you say something, snake?"

The snake tries to move feebly and then hisses in a sound that Dru interprets as a frustrated sigh. She continues to hiss to herself, ignoring Dru.

"_New lady lets me be cold. I dislike this place. Let me go back to the place with the warm and the food... oh, so much tasty food._"

"_I can feed you_," Dru says to her. She doesn't expect her to respond, but wants to apologise anyway. "_I'm sorry I let you be cold._"

"_New lady apologising for the cold? New lady left me cold for a long time..._"

"_It was not that long_," Dru says defensively. "_Wait- you... you understand me_?"

"_Yes. New lady speaks the language I know. Snake speak_."

"_It... sounds just like normal for me._"

"_Is new lady going to make me warm and find me food? Bacon is good food_," the baby snake tells her as Dru slowly picks her up in her fingers.

"_I'm... Dru. Your new owner. I'm going to be fetching you food from now on, yes_."

The snake hisses happily and slithers in a circle in Dru's palm. "_Mistress? Excellent! More food for me._"

Dru thinks for a minute. "Purly!"

Purly appears in seconds. "Yes, Mistress Gaunt? How can Purly help?"

"I want some food for my snake. Bring me some food for her. And a few pieces of bacon. She's only little so cut it small."

"Yes, Mistress Gaunt." Purly vanishes into the Manor somewhere to obey. Dru looks back to her snake.

"_Do... do you have a name, little snake_?"

The snake raises her head and looks at Dru curiously. "_No. The egg was lonely. My mother was not there to name me when life began._"

"_So I can name you?_"

"_Mistress is my new mother. Bring me food, give me warmth. Yes, Mistress can name me_."

Dru grins and turns to look out of the window. After a moment, Purly appears with a plate of food for her snake, and a sandwich for Dru. She curtseys and then vanishes elsewhere. Dru turns to the plate and takes the snake over to pick at the food.

"_Lilith._"

"_What did Mistress say?_"

"_Your name. I think it should be Lilith_."

Lilith hisses appreciatively. "_Lilith. Lilith likes the name Mistress has given her, yes. Now, where is food? Is this food all for Lilith?_"

Dru laughs despite herself and strokes Lilith's head with a finger before letting her slide off her palm and towards the food. "_Yes, Lilith, the food is for you. Don't make yourself sick though, little snake_." 


	3. Platform 9 3,4

When Dru wakes up on September 1st it is at the hands of her house elf, Purly. The creature stumbles back nervously as soon as her mistress' eyes flutter open, but Dru merely ignores her as she throws her quilt back.

Light filters through the floor length dark curtains, as Dru has yet – in all the five years she's been living in this bedroom – to summon enough effort at the end of the day to close them properly. Lit up from behind, the curtains look the colour of fresh blood, although in reality they are a much earthier colour. The half-inch gap between them provides just enough light for her to see around her room for what feels like the last time ever as she wakes up properly. The carpet is thick wool the colour of rich red wine and as Dru swings herself off the bed her toes curl into it appreciatively. The claret red floor is broken by a large rug the colour of cream that sits in the middle of her room. It is sheepskin, or so Purly told her once when she asked. The walls are spelled into two colours, because when she was getting the room decorated she couldn't decide on which colour would look best. The upper two thirds of the wall are cream, and the lower third is an ombre transition to the same claret as her carpet. The skirting boards are pitch black. She stands and looks around in her night dress, frowning at the fact that she feels like she'll never come back to this room. To her left, Purly is making her bed, pulling the red and brown quilt back over a black bottom sheet and plumping the matching pillows. Once she's finished, she puts the two creamy coloured pillows back in place on top of the quilt that Dru throws on the floor every night. Dru knows that the moment she's left the room, Purly will strip the bedding and replace the sheets with fresh ones, as she does every morning.

Directly across the room from her bed, she has a large desk with a comfortable armchair placed in front of it. The armchair did not match the room's décor, so her Uncle Lucius had it spelled to match. It is cream, just like her rug and the walls, and she usually keeps a red blanket thrown over it to stop any dirt from accumulating, but she packed the blanket- Transfigured by Aunt 'Cissa to a more neutral grey colour, to fit into whichever House's décor she ends up in- in her trunk going to Hogwarts. The armchair looks bare and alien to Dru now. The small mirror on the desk is reflecting one of the beams of light from the window at her feet. The only new additions to the desk are the cage for her owl, the little box that her Aunt has set up as a temporary home for Lilith because her vivarium is packed away, and her wand, which she looks at with a small sense of glee. The trunk to go to Hogwarts is on the right hand side of the desk, close to the door to her room, which currently stands slightly ajar. The last time Purly Apparated into her room to wake her, Dru nearly beat her to death with a slipper, so Purly instead Apparates just outside the doorway and slips in through the door as quietly as possible.

The wardrobe and the window are both on the opposing side of the room to the doorway. The enormous window sits straight in the middle of the room. Dru likes the view she has over the gardens of the Manor, and has in the past spent entire days simply watching the garden, pretending she was an Empress holding court; she would watch her 'empire' and talk to the imaginary subjects that populated the grounds of the Manor. Often, Draco had joined her as her chief advisor. When they had finished 'holding court' Draco and Dru would go on 'adventures through the Empire' in 'disguises' that usually consisted of large hats and long coats. Together they would run around the gardens of the Manor, hiding from the gardeners and other 'subjects' of the Empire who might recognise them, fighting imaginary enemies with wands made from twigs and swords made of bigger sticks. Once they tired, they would sit and together they would talk about history and what they wanted to do in the future, as if they were really royalty or imperial lord and lady. Dru grins at the happy memories. The wardrobe sits just to the side of the window, near the desk. Both are made well, sturdy and minimal but elegant in the same breath, and varnished to look darker and glossy. Overall, Dru thinks as she heads over to the desk to get ready for the day, her room gives off a comfortable feeling, and she likes that very much.

She hopes that whichever house she ends up in will have a common room and a bed that is as comfortable as her bedroom here in Malfoy Manor. She isn't sure she'll be a Slytherin yet. Pavo disowning the family name means that Draco's family honour basically resides on him being a Slytherin, but Dru isn't sure if the Malfoys are as keen for her to be a Slytherin as they are their only remaining son. What happens, she wonders uneasily, if she ends up in Ravenclaw- or worse, Gryffindor? She knows she's not a Hufflepuff. They're too nicey-nice for her- all unwavering loyalty and friendliness. Her already powerful penchant for wandless hexes proves she's not cut out to be in a house like that. For a moment, she allows herself to dwell on what would happen if she turns out not to be a Slytherin and the Malfoys kicked her out. She has no idea where Pavo lives now, and she doesn't even know if she'd be able to get in touch to ask him to help her. She would be even more alone than she is now, in a house with people who she doesn't really feel she fits in with any more. She gulps and wishes that not knowing didn't bother her so much. They're not her parents, anyway. Why should she care? Purly opens the curtains and her brief moment of reflection dissipates. She sits in front of the mirror at her desk, and sets to getting ready for the day.

Once she has attempted to tame her black curly mane she pulls on her new Hogwarts robes and the muggle coat that Aunt 'Cissa picked out for her. They cannot turn up to the station without attempting to conceal their robes, as too many wizards in one place will tip the muggles off – just seeing trollies full of strangely titled books and owls in cages confuses them enough. Despite her dislike for most muggle clothes, Dru cannot help but appreciate the long, slender black coat that buttons up and ties around her waist. She puts her black Hogwarts scarf on too, making sure to tuck the badge inside her coat. Then she orders Purly to take her trunk downstairs. The house elf obeys instantly, dragging the trunk slowly out of the room before Apparating to get help. Dru watches her leave and then looks over at Nib's cage and smiles fondly at the bird. He's very loyal to her already and she can't help but love him. She sits to the desk, where on a plate sits a slice of hot buttered toast and a cup of apple juice. She eats the toast quickly, feeding the crusts to a grateful Nib. When she opens the tiny box that Lilith is contained in, she hisses sadly.

"_Feeding the other one, the one who looks at Lilith like Lilith will be food. Why do you not feed Lilith? Lilith is sad_."

Dru laughs. "_Lilith I fed you a few days ago, you can't be hungry quite yet. Are you ready for today?_"

Dru lets Lilith slide around her wrist. She's grown lots in the past two months, and is now big enough to hold herself there for an entire day if need be, although it does tire her. Dru had explained that she was not allowed a snake, and Lilith had agreed to be smuggled into the school on her wrist not long after. She pulls her robe sleeve down over Lilith's head.

"_Are you secure there, Lilith_?" Dru asks her quickly.

"_Yes, Lilith is secure. Lilith will stay here all day, as agreed._"

"_Thank you, Lilith. Try to stay quiet if you can- I don't want anyone to know you're there._"

"_Lilith will obey. Lilith hopes your day is enjoyable_," comes Lilith's curt dismissal.

Dru grins at her snake. She's blunt, and Dru likes it. She looks around at her room one last time, slides her wand into her boot to conceal it and grabs Nib's cage. He nips at her fingers fondly, hooting quietly.

"Shh, Nib. You'll be out of your cage when we get to Hogwarts, okay?"

She looks behind her one last time as she leaves her bedroom and lets the door swing shut behind her. The journey down to the hallway seems to last forever. Nib nibbles at her fingers as she walks, true to his name, but he doesn't actually hurt her. She's the first one down to the hall, so she sits on her trunk and puts Nib's cage in front of her, staring down the hallway towards the ballroom and dining rooms.

"Aren't you bringing that snake?" Draco asks nonchalantly as he leaps his way down the last three steps, his face breaking into a grin and betraying his pride as he lands safely. Feather rustles her feathers in protest at the jolt, but stays quiet. Dobby and Purly hobble down the last few steps carrying Draco's black trunk and then Dobby collects Casiphia's crate and takes it to Draco. Draco gestures for him to hold it, so he steps in line with Draco. Casiphia mewls quietly.

"Cas, shh," Draco tells her. "You can't come out yet, we're not at Hogwarts." He looks over at Dru expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"She's on my wrist," Dru murmurs.

"How did you get her to do that?"

"What? Stay there? I just told her to."

"And she _understood_?" he asks, shocked.

'Well, yes… I thought everyone could talk to snakes? I can talk to her, at least..."

"Mistress Gaunt," Purly squeaks, earning twin glares from the children. She flinches under their cruel gazes. 'Terribly sorry for speaking without being asked, Mistress Gaunt and Master Draco. But Purly wanted to tell Mistress that she is a parselmouth."

"Parselmouth," Dru says the word slowly, as though tasting it. "What's that mean?"

"Parseltongue is the language of the snake, Mistress. Purly knows it well, Mistress, as when He—" Purly never gets to finish that sentence, for she is interrupted by a well-aimed boot in the back from Lucius. She falls to the floor unceremoniously and looks to her Master with eyes filled with fear. Lucius' eyes narrow as he takes in the house-elf.

"Punish yourself accordingly, Purly," is all he says to her.

'Yes, Master Malfoy. My apologies, Master Malfoy.' Purly scrambles to her feet and curtseys deeply, then Apparates elsewhere to punish herself. Dru doesn't quite understand what she's done wrong to be punished, but she knows better than to ask. Especially as the punishment was related loosely to something about her.

Lucius turns his gaze to Dru. "You will get rid of that snake, understood?"

"But Uncle Lucius, you let me buy her—" Dru begins grumpily.

"It was a mistake. You can get another pet at Christmas. No snakes."

Dru gulps. She loves Lilith far too much already to let her go, and knows that Lilith would never forgive her if she did. She thinks fast. It's not obvious she has her snake with her, clearly, or Draco would never have asked where she was, so-

"I left her upstairs anyway," she mutters sulkily, putting it on just a little to make it believable. "I'll go find a house elf to release her."

Lucius looks at her sharply, determining whether or not she's telling the truth. Her lie rings true enough that Lucius nods curtly after a moment, though behind his back Draco is watching her with one white-blond eyebrow raised accusingly. She turns her eyes to him and gives him a look that screams _if you tell him the truth I'll hex you in to next week_ before wandering off in the general direction of the kitchens. Instead of finding a house elf, she takes one last trip to the library to take up some time. She knows she will miss the comfortable reading chairs in the room as she walks through, trailing her fingers over the books and smiling at familiar titles she has read often throughout her childhood.

She also knows that as much as she will miss the library at home, the books in the Hogwarts' library will more than make up for any homesickness she might feel, especially considering how awkward living with the Malfoys has been since Pavo disowned the family. When she returns to the hallway, her Uncle Lucius and Draco are already in the car along with all their luggage. Aunt 'Cissa stands in the doorway, beckoning for her to hurry up. She follows her Aunt and climbs in besides Draco in the back. She glares at the raised partition between the back seats and the front, both annoyed she cannot listen into her adopted parents' discussion and relieved that her Uncle Lucius is much less likely to see Lilith if he is sitting in front of her. Still, she tugs the sleeve covering Lilith a little further down over her hand, just in case. As the driver begins to pull away from Malfoy Manor, Draco watches their childhood home silently. Dru knows that he's scared of voicing his feelings, but she's more than aware of the nerves and excitement he feels.

Dru barely spares a glance back at the Manor. She has felt increasingly unwelcome there of late- Lucius has been colder with her than normal, and even Draco, usually so open with her, seems to have pushed her away, though Dru isn't sure if that's because his father has been lecturing him at length on the responsibilities being head of the Malfoy household will entail or if she's done something wrong. Either way, Malfoy Manor has stopped feeling like home to her. She looks out of the window instead, half wondering whether she'll ever find somewhere she fits in, hardly daring to hope she'll find it at Hogwarts. Slowly, her thoughts shift from the prospect of finding a home at Hogwarts to her newfound knowledge on parselmouths. Why, she wonders, is Uncle Lucius so angry that she can speak to snakes? Is being a parselmouth a bad thing? She stares out of the window for what feels like forever before turning to her brother.

"Have you ever heard of Parselmouths?" she asks him quietly. The partition might be up, but she doesn't want to risk her Uncle hearing her.

"No, but Father acted very weirdly when Purly told you you are one. I wonder why."

Dru shrugs. "Don't have a clue. Maybe we'll learn about them at Hogwarts, or something."

"Or perhaps you could ask one of the Professors. I'm sure the head of your house will know about them."

"Merlin, Draco, have you been _reading_?" she teases. She remembers reading about heads of houses in _Hogwarts: A History_ and grins at her brother. He just pouts at her.

"I was curious. I want to know what to expect and seeing as Father won't talk about it with me, I thought I'd better learn for myself. We don't want to be walking in as clueless as a couple of mudbloods, do we?"

"I guess not," she murmurs.

The drive from Wiltshire to London lasts for around two hours- she's done it before, to wave goodbye to Pavo. To pass the time, Draco flicks through a spare copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ and telling her interesting facts as he comes across them. Dru mumbles responses under her breath, stroking Lilith from under her sleeve and wishing she dared speak to her little pet. She wants to know why Purly telling her about being a parselmouth was worthy of punishment. It is no secret that her adoptive parents were Death Eaters, so what could possibly be worse than _that_? Why hide something as minute as parseltongue from her, yet openly admit to that they were willing servants to the Dark Lord's cause? It makes no sense to Dru. Lilith pokes her head out of her sleeve, looking at Dru curiously. She makes no noise, but Dru can tell she's aware of her confusion.

"Put that thing away. Father might see."

"Does she scare you?" Dru sniggers.

"No," he huffs, but she can tell from his stiffened posture and the way that he's glancing towards the front that he is, though she can't tell if he's afraid of the snake, or of what Lucius will do if he finds out she lied to him _again_. She is tempted to ask him to prove it, but then Draco looks again at the front of the car and she realises that her Uncle will end her if she's caught with Lilith, so she lets Lilith go back to sleep coiled tightly around her wrist without another word to her brother.

Eventually, Dru falls asleep in the car. She wakes suddenly to Draco shaking her arm, exclaiming excitedly that they have arrived. She notices him glancing in to the front of the car as he does so. Lucius is still grumpy about losing his eldest son, and anything Draco does that might reflect badly even for a single second on the Malfoy name will draw an 'appropriate punishment' from his father. She knows that he is cautious of looking 'too excited' to be going to Hogwarts. Dru is also inclined to keep her excitement hidden, but only because she'd rather watch than dance about and be a nuisance. Their chauffeur collects a couple of trolleys for the children and then helps them load their trunks and pets on to each. Once they have finished he straps them down and then they both take the handles of their respective trolley. Dru makes the effort to thank him, but Draco is far too busy admiring the muggles entering and exiting the station. He has never been one for manners in any case.

'_Quickly_,' Narcissa snaps, ushering them inside. They follow Lucius through the crowd, who seem to separate as they gaze at the two owls, cat and odd clothing the wizarding family are wearing. Ignoring the stares, they continue up to the pillar between platforms 9 and 10. When Dru notices that Nib's cage isn't quite strapped on safely she stops to adjust it, earning her a steely glare from her aunt.

'Dru, what are you doing? _Hurry_!'

'He was going to fall!'

'Never mind, never mind,' she huffs before turning to her son, 'Draco, sweetie, go on through; with your father, now."

As Draco and Lucius run at the barrier, Dru thinks about how long she has been waiting for this day. _Finally_ she is getting away from her Aunt's pestering and her Uncle's bitterness and lectures on family honour and tradition, not to mention the importance of blood purity. She believes his words are the truth, really – she just gets sick of hearing about it, and it makes her uncomfortable that she doesn't know her parents to prove her blood purity. He's like one of those wizened old buffoons who sit in the Leaky Cauldron, groaning on constantly about what it was like _back in their days, _and she hates it.

Dru looks at her Aunt. She's glancing around nervously- she's always been cautious around muggles. Her shoulders are all tensed up, and she looks like she wants to flee whenever one of them walks just a little bit too close. Muggles are almost alien to the pureblooded family, but then again, it seems they are just as alien to them. They are staring at Dru's owl and the robes peeking out from under her coat with a strange sort of fascination, whereas Dru is gazing at their strange trousers and blazers in distaste. She has seen many wizards in muggle clothing, but it has never been quite so… bland; so boring. This whole building screams muggle. The posters advertise their muggle transport and gadgets that are completely lost on her. _Why don't they move? _She wonders. They have invented so many devices in their ignorance of magic; she'd almost feel sorry for them if they weren't _muggles_.

"Dru, come _on_!"

She takes off running with her Aunt 'Cissa by her side. For a second a strange sense of displacement churns her stomach, and then they are on the platform. _The_ platform. The one she's spent years gazing at photographs of, photographs of her adopted parents from their Hogwarts experiences. Platform 9 ¾. In person it is even more wonderful than in photographs. The train itself is a bright, polished red and she beams at it, glad to see the splash of her favourite colour. A timetable overhead simply reads _Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock. _Dru can't hide it; she finds herself grinning broadly, pleased to finally be there. She turns back to admire the excited crowd of students and their parents. Plumes of smoke from the chimney of the train fly overhead, and a cat meows shrilly at its owner from beside her. She looks down at Nib. He seems to be curiously taking in the sudden crowd, but as ever, seems decidedly unruffled by the sudden shift in location.

"Alright, you two," Aunt 'Cissa says, claiming their attention once more. Draco looks just as awestruck as Dru feels, though neither one of them would ever admit to it.

"You must get on the train now, alright? Find a good seat whilst you can. Come along, I'll get one of the stewards to help you with your trunks."

"… Give us a look, Lee. Go on!"

They pass a small gathering of boys, who are all gazing at a boy with dreadlocks excitedly. He lifts the lid of the box he is holding slowly and the creature inside reveals a long, hairy leg. The crowd of people shriek in horrified glee. Dru wants to see if the creature is a spider or something slightly more interesting, but Aunt 'Cissa shepherds them by without a second glance at them. Dru can't find it in herself to be sad about the missed opportunity, however- she's boarding the train she has spent her entire life dreaming about.

Eventually they find a compartment. Once they've got help with their hand luggage, checking they have money and essentials ready and everything is stashed away, Narcissa pulls the children in for the tightest hugs Dru thinks she has ever given them. As her Aunt speaks softly to Draco, Dru slides into the empty compartment. She wonders what it would be like to have her own Mother and Father bid her farewell instead of her Uncle and Aunt. But Dru knows very little about her parents except two startling facts: they were Death Eaters, and her mother, Aunt 'Cissa's sister Bellatrix, is spending the rest of her life in Azkaban. As far as she's aware, her mother is also completely insane, and couldn't look after her even if she was out of prison. She's never been told for sure who her father is, but she presumes Bellatrix's husband is the man responsible for her existence, though her Aunt and Uncle have never really verified her assumptions one way or another.

Slowly, the compartment fills with other people. First to enter are Crabbe and Goyle. Almost clones of one another and certainly never apart, both boys have been friends of Dru and Draco their whole lives. Shortly after they arrive, a tall, thin boy enters and sits in the corner quietly, smiling at them all. Dru recognises his face from a photo in the Prophet a few months ago, and realises after a moment she is looking at Theodore Nott. A girl Dru doesn't recognise at all follows him in and sits primly on the chair in front of Dru. Draco spends a while catching up with Crabbe and Goyle, but Dru soon finds herself becoming bored of their talk of Quidditch. She turns to the unknown girl, who is staring out at the passing London buildings.

"I'm Druella Gaunt," she says by way of introduction. "Who're you?"

The girl, with a short, sleek bob and a slick of pink lip gloss, looks up from the window politely. "Pansy Parkinson."

"I've heard of your family, you're in the sacred twenty-eight, aren't you?"

"Yep. You're a Gaunt?" She gives Dru a somewhat doubtful look, "I thought the Gaunts were all mental."

Dru almost corrects Pansy by explaining that she is, in fact, a Lestrange. But she stops herself. The Gaunt family name is, at least, still slightly more respectable than the Lestranges- if only because it is something of a mystery nowadays. "I don't actually know my parents, so I'm not sure. I live with Draco and his parents – my adoptive parents."

"Draco Malfoy. Pleasure," Draco says, taking Dru's mention as an opportunity to introduce himself. His Quidditch conversation seems to ground to a halt as the introductions begin.

"Theodore Nott- but please, you can call me Theo," Nott says, nodding at the group. "So, we chose a clean carriage. What a pleasure. What house do you all reckon you'll be in?"

"Slytherin," Draco says immediately.

"Same here," Crabbe adds.

"Me too," says Goyle.

"Probably Slytherin," Pansy nods. "My family have all been Snakes at Hogwarts."

Everyone turns to Dru, who shuffles her feet slightly. She's not a nervous person but doesn't exactly enjoy the attention, especially as she's not sure whether she can trust the two new acquaintances she's made. "Slytherin, most likely, but... I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw that much."

"I had a cousin in Ravenclaw. Weird as hell," Theo grimaces. Draco nods sympathetically. "I'm pretty sure it will be Slytherin for the lot of us."

The talk returns to Quidditch after that, and even the admittedly-reluctant Pansy joins in the conversation, explaining that she enjoys flying, just... not so much as a sport.

Once they're out of London and passing green fields in a blur, a plump, dimpled old lady taps on their carriage door, pushing a trolley and smiling at the new first-years warmly.

"Anything from the trolley?" She asks. Everyone helps themselves to an array of treats- everyone except Dru, who despite her usually gargantuan appetite is too distracted by the journey to eat. She just buys a pumpkin pasty and juice. She slides some into her sleeve to give it to Lilith, but she feels her snake turn her nose up at the food. She can almost hear her little hiss complaining that it is not meat in the back of her word, but true to her word, her snake says nothing.

"I got Agrippa!" Goyle grins happily, holding his Chocolate Frog card up proudly. "I've been wanting this one for ages!"

"Babayaga," Draco grimaces. Dru knows from his whining in the past he has at least seven of her. Of course, he tries to barter with the ever-incompetent Goyle for his newly-acquired Agrippa, and soon it becomes a free-for-all, with everyone bartering and bidding over one another to try and get cards they are looking for. Dru, not having any Chocolate Frog cards of her own, simply sits and watches the chaos.

"I'm going to go for a walk," Dru says after a while, but no one is really paying too much attention. Draco waves at her as she leaves them, but then returns to arguing animatedly about the potential value of his Babayaga card in comparison to Agrippa. She slips out of the carriage and gazes up the aisle, spotting a couple of older-looking Ravenclaw girls giggling excitedly.

"-but can you _believe_ he's actually real?' one asks.

"I know! _Harry Potter_, starting at Hogwarts! I can't even... Sandy said she'd even spotted that scar whilst he was getting on the train!"

"Oh, Sandy's a fibber – but I know Anne saw him heading towards his compartment. I wonder what house he'll be in!"

"Do you know where he is now?"

"Apparently he's sat with one of the Weasleys – they've another brother just going in to first year now."

Dru is mildly intrigued. She's not really one for gossip, but... this is Harry Potter, after all. The whole Wizarding World is interested in Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake, and... well, if he's a first-year like her, she might be able to make friends with him. Friends with Harry Potter, she thinks. Wouldn't Draco be jealous? Smirking to herself, she begins peering in to every compartment she passes, wondering if she'll catch a glimpse of the boy famous for defeating the Dark Lord; the one who helped put her parents in Azkaban when she was just two years old. She feels no resentment towards him for it- he was only a baby himself, she reasons. She has heard so many tales about him – about the shape of his scar, that the reason he defeated Voldemort is because he's going to be much darker a wizard than he ever was.

She eventually stumbles across a carriage with just two young boys inside. One boy has the trademark Weasley red sprouting from his scalp and the other has a mop of black almost as uncontrollable as her own. It parts slightly on his forehead, revealing the lightning shaped scar. He's a spectacled, slightly owlish looking boy wearing clothing that looks distinctly muggle. Everything he wears is too big for him, and looks slightly ragged. Dru wonders if the family he lives with are poor. She remembers to knock on the door slightly before opening it; she wants to at least _attempt_ to be polite, and she's sure he's had students barging in and watching him the whole time he's been on the train. She doesn't want to be amongst that number. As she opens the door they turn to her expectantly, Potter still chewing on some liquorice wands. Weasley's eyes are a pale cornflower blue, and Harry's are impossibly green. His eyes would most certainly be his most defining feature, if it were possible to overlook the fame of the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

"You're Harry Potter," she says bluntly.

"Uh... yes."

"It's not a stick on or anything, then. The scar… it's real?"

"I'd say so. I have lived with it my whole life after all."

She nods and takes a seat beside him. He stiffens slightly in response and she remembers that she hasn't introduced herself. Cursing internally, she wishes for a moment she had the charisma of her brother. She might have better luck with the awkward boy in front of her if she did.

"Druella Gaunt, but call me Dru. I hate Druella," she tells him, staring unabashed at the scar on his forehead.

"Harry, but you already know- and that's Ron Weasley."

"Pleasure," she says, finally turning to Ron and offering him a tight smile for politeness' sake.

"You look familiar... wait, I saw you in the robe place!" Harry exclaims after a moment. "You were sat reading one of our school books."

"Flattered you remembered," she says wryly. "Though I'd wager it's only because of my hair." Harry grins at her, and even Ron sniggers in the corner. Encouraged, she presses on. "I'm sorry, I can't say I remember you… no, wait, you might have been talking to my brother. I was reading when he had his robes fitted."

"You didn't look alike," Harry says to her.

"I'm adopted."

"Oh, sorry," Harry flushes. "So am I."

"Yeah, I knew that. I think everyone does."

"Oh... uh... yeah," Harry falters. "I keep forgetting everyone knows about me here. So, uh... are your parents- I mean, are they-?"

"Dead? No, they're in Azkaban."

Ron's face pales at the same time that Harry furrows his brow, confused.

"Azkaban?"

"Azkaban is wizard prison," Ron says for Harry's benefit.

"When you got that scar and the Wizarding War ended, a lot of Death Eaters were put in Azkaban. My parents were taken there too... so the Malfoys adopted me." Dru pushes her hair back from her face with one hand and looks at him earnestly. She hopes she is making a good impression.

"Death Eaters?" he asks, looking even more confused.

"That's what everyone calls the Dark Lord's followers."

"You really know how to bright up the mood," Ron says to her. "I don't reckon Harry wants to talk about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or about his scar. We've seen Merlin knows how many people parading up and down the train looking for him already."

"I don't mind," Harry tells him. "At least she's talking to me about it. It's better than people just whispering about me like everyone else is doing."

"Hey, I am still here," Dru reminds them good-naturedly. "Look, see, I can even do this-" she grins cheekily at Ron, reaches over, and steals one of his liquorice wands.

"Oi!" yells Ron. "That was mine!"

"S'okay Ron, you can have one of mine," Harry says, giving him a replacement and grinning at Dru. She smiles back. She likes Harry already, and- surprisingly enough- she doesn't really mind Ron, although she knows her Uncle would be angry she's 'fraternising with blood traitors'. He was with Pavo before he disowned the family.

Still, she thinks, sitting back again, Uncle Lucius isn't here. And Ron Weasley is certainly not the most annoying wizard she's ever met- he can actually converse, unlike Crabbe and Goyle, for example. Ron eventually relents and smiles at her a little bit and she knows she's forgiven. Situation resolved, she turns back to Harry.

"So, Harry. You grew up with muggles?"

"Yes. My Uncle, Aunt and cousin in Little Whinging, Surrey."

"How is it? Like it much?"

"Not really, but I don't suppose I can do much about it," he says glumly, looking down. Dru brushes her hair away from her face again. She understands how he feels, but she doesn't know if she can trust the two new friends she's made enough to tell them that.

"I'm sorry. Must be horrible, going from a top-notch wizarding family to _that_. I'm just grateful my adoptive parents are purebloods, too." She doesn't know why she says

"Blood purity doesn't matter," Ron says in a voice so sour that Dru is half tempted to hex the cheeky git. She reminds herself he's not too bad, and instead decides to return to her brother and tell him about Harry before she has a chance to ruin things with Harry Potter and his new friend.

"It's just what my Aunt and Uncle think... I think I'd better go. I'll see you around, Potter... Weasley."

"Bye, Dru," says Harry.

"Gaunt," comes the curt dismissal from Ron, though his eyes are friendlier than his tone suggests. She nods at him and smiles at Harry.

The door swings shut behind her, and she wanders slowly back to the carriage with her brother in. When she arrives, everyone seems to have lapsed once more into silence, so the news she brings is a welcome topic of discussion.

"Harry Potter's on the train."

"Is he really?" asks Theo Nott, looking up from his hands. Even the disinterested Pansy turns to look at her as she settles back onto the seat.

"I was just sat in his carriage talking with him. It's really him. I saw the scar and everything."

The discussion starts back up again; this time, they're contemplating the fame of Harry Potter, and which house he'll be in, and who he'll be friends with. When Dru mentions he was sitting with Ron Weasley they all turn their noses up as though something's gone sour. She makes sure not to tell them that Ron isn't actually as terrible as she's heard the rest of the brothers are, though. No point spoiling what little good reputation she has so far with the two new pureblooded children- she needs to maintain friendships her Uncle Lucius will approve of, after all.

"I think I'll have to take Potter under my wing," Draco is drawling cockily. "Poor boy. Raised by muggles, he's no idea how the world works. We'll have to show him how things are done, eh?"

There is a chorus of titters from Crabbe and Goyle. Theo just grins. Pansy's smile is one of genuine amusement, but Dru's smile is purely polite; she knows Harry well enough already to know that he won't stand for any of Draco's nonsensical theatrics in the name of reputation.

Nightfall is creeping up on them, Dru realises as she looks out of the window. The vast expanse of sky is slowly fading to a velvet black. As the air cools around the fast-moving train, a slight frost creeps beautiful crystalline pattern around the edges of the glass windows. Dru crams the muggle coat into her trunk and then slips her wand in to the pocket inside her robes, preparing for when they arrive. After what seems a lifetime the train seems to slow a little, and a voice echoes through the train via some kind of loudspeaker.

"The _Hogwarts Express_ will arrive in Hogsmeade in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train to be taken to the school separately. Ensure any loose personal belongings are stowed within trunks. Thank you."

The others in the carriage begin checking for their loose belongings. Dru takes advantage of their brief moments of distraction to speak to her brother quietly.

"Ready?"

"I think so, are you?" he says. His face betrays his nerves to her, but then he sits a little straighter and his features settle into a more neutral expression.

"Definitely," she nods. But she can already feel the tangled knots of worry in her stomach as she thinks about the events ahead. The Sorting has them both worried, and they both know it.

Finally the train comes to a halt, and the five of them push their way in to the packed corridor, calling out to one another to stay close by as they make their way through the chattering, rowdy stream of students headed to the platform. As they fight their way off the train, Dru shivers and is glad of the warmth of her clothing- her robes are thick, and help to fight off the biting chill. Their breath steams around them as they bundle together, trying to work out what to do. The older students are streaming off in twos and threes towards carriages that await them outside the station, to take them the last of the way to Hogwarts. Dru can't see anything pulling them, but presumes it's just magic at work. Just as she's about to suggest that they follow suit, she notices the lamp swinging haphazardly over students' heads is actually held by a man who appears to be organising the chaos at the far side of the platform.

Dru looks at him hard, sure she recognises him. He is a true giant of a man, dwarfing even the tallest of the students in the crowds. His bushy beard is black and scraggly, and he wears grubby-looking robes. Dru realises he's the man from Madam Malkin's shop window- the one with the ice creams. His round figure is even more imposing in the half-light of the station than it was in the bright light of Diagon Alley. He calls out loudly, his voice carrying over the sea of people.

"Firs'-years, firs'-years over here!"

The first years, grateful for the instruction, all rush quickly over toward him. Dru and the others end up somewhere near the back of the little crowd.

"All right there, Harry?" The giant beams at a student in the crowd, and Dru follows his gaze until it settles on the back of Harry's head. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

"What a buffoon," Draco mutters as they stumble down a very steep, very narrow path. It is proving very hard to distinguish in the near-darkness, especially near the back of the group where the man's light doesn't quite reach.

Dru ignores her cousin's complaints, instead attempting to make out their surroundings as she stumbles along with everyone else. She thinks there are thick sets of trees around them, but it's really too dark to tell as they make their way down. Aside from one student's incessant sniffing, there is next to no noise as everyone concentrates on where they're putting their feet.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant calls to them. "Jus' round this bend here..."

A loud chorus of oohs and aahs rises from the students as the narrow pathway rounds a sharp corner and suddenly opens up on to the side of a huge, black lake. Built on a large mountain on the other side of the lake, with innumerable windows twinkling like stars in the night sky, Hogwarts stands proudly, turrets and parapets silhouetted against the navy night. Dru is speechless as the giant pauses to let them take the sight in for a few moments. This visage is better than anything she could ever have imagined as a child. In the back of her mind, she consciously recognises the fact that this moment in her short life is an important one. The image of Hogwarts, silhouetted against the dusky sky, will always burn bright in her memory, she thinks to herself as she takes a breath of the biting air and looks over the lake.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid shouts after a minute, pointing to where a small flock of boats are sitting in the water by the shore. Dru and Draco climb in to a boat with Crabbe and Goyle, and everyone else seems to just find a space wherever they can.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid calls. He has a boat all to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

All the boats begin moving at once, floating smoothly across the water. The only noise is the lapping of water against the sides of the boats; everyone is silent, staring at the castle that will become their school for the next seven years.

"Heads down, people," Hagrid calls out into the silence as the first boats reach the bottom of the cliff that Hogwarts stands upon. Everyone ducks as their boats sail them through a thick curtain of ivy that hides a large opening in the cliff face. The boats continue on into a dark tunnel that leads straight into the cliff, under the castle. Eventually, they arrive in a dimly lit underground harbour. The students scramble out onto the rocks as they dock.

"Oy, you there! This yer toad?" Hagrid asks of one of the group, checking all the boats as students climb out.

"Trevor!" cries an all-ears boy joyfully, eagerly holding out his hands. Dru cringes as he grabs the toad. She has no idea who would accept a pet like that when they're so slimy. She thankfully strokes Lilith under her sleeve, who appears to have finally woken up again and is curling round her wrist again and again, still silent.

"This way," Hagrid says as the last students scramble from the boats. Dru falls into step beside her adopted brother as they follow the giant. All is silent except for the pattering of footsteps along the stone passageway. Eventually, they are spat out onto the grass of the castle's main courtyard. The grass underfoot is frosty and the students' footsteps crunch as they follow Hagrid up a few steps and crowd around an oak door larger than Dru has ever seen before. Hagrid turns to the students briefly, looking around at them as if to quickly count them.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

And then Hagrid lifts a giant fist and knocks on the castle's door three times.


	4. The Sorting Hat

The heavy doors swing open immediately, making Dru jump a little. Behind it in the doorway stands a tall, thin witch with a drawn face, round glasses perched precariously at the end of her nose and long black hair pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She tucks her wand away in a pocket of her brilliant green robes. Dru gulps as she surveys the students and Hagrid calmly. This woman looks more scary than her Uncle Lucius does, even when he flies into a rage.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid says after clearing his throat awkwardly, nodding his head at her in greeting.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

At McGonagall's gesture, the first year rabble troop warily through the door. Draco's hand finds its way onto the very edge of Dru's sleeve as they move, but Dru knows better than to point it out. Knowing Draco the way she does, he would only swear he was keeping his balance or something equally as stupid. Besides, the slight tugging at her sleeve makes her feel better too, reminding her she's not alone in all this. She feels Lilith move slightly as her robe shifts, and silently sends a message to her snake to stay calm as she walks through the doorway and into the hall beyond.

The Entrance Hall is massive, Dru thinks as she walks through the main doorway and into the building for the first time. Having grown up in Malfoy Manor, she had thought she knew what the word 'massive' meant, but she realises now that she was wrong. It dwarfs even the Malfoys' ballroom. The stone walls are lit with torches, old fashioned ones that she'd seen outside some of the shops in Diagon Alley, and they sit a few feet apart along the walls. They lead her eye along to the wall to a beautiful wide stone staircase- marble, perhaps? Dru wonders to herself- with intricate designs carved into the pillars of the banister. There are maybe ten stairs and then a huge room beyond, and in the dim light from the torches Dru can see portraits, moving around. They look like they are trying to catch a glimpse of the new students. There are also majestic stone staircases leading to the rest of the castle. Professor McGonagall gives them a few more moments to take in the enormity of the view, and then catches their attention and leads them across the huge stone flags past the closed door to the Great Hall. Dru gulps as she hears the buzz of the school behind the doors, and Draco's hand tightens on her robe surreptitiously. McGonagall leads the first years into a small chamber just along the wall from the Hall. The group crowds together tightly, wondering what comes next, peering around nervously.

Professor McGonagall clears her throat and looks down at the children once more. They fall into silence and look up at her expectantly. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she begins. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall through here, you will all be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is an important ceremony; while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time within your house common room."

Dru glanced around. It was easy to tell who was a muggleborn here; those that were looked utterly entranced.

"For the muggleborn witches and wizards among us, the four houses are named Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards throughout history. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Professor McGonagall's sharp eyes pick out a few students directly at her feet, and Dru notes Harry Potter and the newest Weasley brother standing a few feet in front of where she is, closer to the front. Potter's hands try to smooth his hair down to no avail. "I shall return when we are ready for you," she says finally. "Please wait quietly."

With that, she sweeps from the room. The whole room erupts into whispered conversation. Dru hears Potter whispering to the Weasel. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?"

She rolls her eyes. Of _course_ the great and mighty Harry Potter wouldn't know how they're going to to be sorted, she thinks. Ron mutters something back at him that she distinctly hears involving 'brothers', 'troll' and 'test' and she wants to hide her face in despair. Were all these wizards actually right when they said Harry Potter killed the Dark Lord?

Meanwhile, Draco rolls his eyes as he sees Potter talking to the redhead, and considering it a personal offence that the only living offspring of the Potter bloodline is talking to a blood traitor, he decides to make a move. He barges through the crowd of people to where Harry Potter stands, looking every part his father's son. Dru follows suit, if only because she wants to catch another glimpse of Potter's eyes- no, the scar, she corrects herself. She wants to see his scar again. Draco stops short just behind Potter in the room and taps him firmly on the shoulder. He turns, his face curious.

"Yeah?"

"You're Harry Potter," Draco tells him. Dru has to suppress a smirk as she realises what he's said is a direct echo of her first words to Potter.

Harry Potter rolls his eyes. "Yeah, so everyone keeps telling me."

"I'm Draco Malfoy. I don't suppose you're going to know much about the wizarding world, what with growing up with mudbloods," he says quite cordially, though Dru can hear the hisses and gasps of shock of the others who understand the weight of the word around them.

"It would be my honour to help you work out-" and here Draco pauses, looking at the Weasley coldly- "who it would benefit you to know. Who your real friends will be." He sticks his hand out for Potter to shake.

Potter looks at him for a moment, and the group around them holds their breath as they wait for his response. He looks down at Draco's outstretched hand and Dru silently wills him to take it and shake his hand. _Come on, Harry Potter_, she thinks. But he doesn't. After another second, he shakes his head just a little.

"Thanks, but I think I can work out who my friends are on my own," he says politely, and then he turns- he _actually turns_ away from Draco to face towards the door Professor McGonagall left through.

Draco sputters silently, but by this point, the attention of the little group around them is focused firmly on the Sorting. Dru can hear whispered conversations from Potter and the people around him just in front of her, but they're talking too quietly for her to properly listen in. One of the girls near him with hair just as bushy as her own is muttering to herself. Dru barely spares her a second glance as Draco turns to her, scowling viciously.

"Damn Harry Potter! Who does he think he is, snubbing a Malfoy like that?! I'll make him pay..." Dru just shakes her head at him and then tunes his furious muttering out, thinking about the Sorting Ceremony ahead. She is about as far from focused as is possible when several people behind her shriek in fear. She leaps about a foot in the air, as do plenty of other people around her. They turn as one to face the back of the room to the sight of a large group of ghosts streaming through the walls. Numbering about twenty or so, they float towards the first-years. Dru boggles at their appearance. A foggy, pearly white colour and somewhat translucent, they look entirely ethereal. They are arguing, Dru realises after a moment, and she looks at Draco, confused. He stares back at her just as perplexed, and they turn back to the ghosts after a moment.

A tiny, stout monk dressed in a ragged old robe is speaking. "-forgive and forget. I say we ought to give him a second chance-"

Another ghost in a ruff and tights interrupts him. "My dearest Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?"

The monk grins as he takes in the sight of the baffled and silent students. "New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nod slowly.

"Well now! I hope to see a few of you in Hufflepuff! I'm known as the Fat Friar- Hufflepuff was my old house, you know."

Just at that point, Professor McGonagall sweeps back into the room. "Move along now, please," she tells the ghosts. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

The ghosts all nod or doff their caps in respect to her and drift through the wall towards the Great Hall. McGonagall watches them leave, then turns to the first-years. "Now, form a line, single file if you would, yes, that's right," she says encouragingly. "Follow me."

Dru jostles alongside Draco to get a place in the line without disturbing Lilith. She is jammed against Draco's back and behind her stands a boy with sandy coloured hair. Behind him stands Potter, and then the Weasley boy. She recognises the people from the carriage she sat in on the train towards the back of the line. The girl, Pansy, smiles at her as she catches her eye, and then they are moving into the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall leads them back across the stone flags of the Entrance Hall, her shoes clicking loudly and echoing in the space around them. She pauses for a moment and the double doors swing open. Dru's breath is taken away. Even in her wildest dreams- even with the descriptions that her Aunt 'Cissa and Uncle Lucius have given her several times over- she could never have imagined beauty like this.

The Great Hall dwarfs the Entrance Hall with ease. Dru looks up and swears to herself the walls keep on rising forever, roofless, into the clear skies of the night outside. Of course, her Aunt and Uncle have told her all about how the ceiling of the Great Hall is enchanted to reflect the sky outside, but she never really believed it would look quite this convincing. Professor McGonagall leads the first-years down a wide aisle directly in the middle of four long tables that stretch almost the length of the hall. On the table the far left of her as she shuffles down the hall, next to the wall, the benches are populated with students in robes boasting a rich green trim, and they watch the new students with an air of disdain, most sitting absolutely still. Slytherins, Dru remembers from her discussions with Draco in the car on the journey from Wiltshire to London. Closer to her, the middle table on the left, sit student with blue trimmed robes, and Dru notes that they watch the students curiously and they too sit reasonably still as they watch the first-years file in, as if a sudden movement might startle them into running. Like an experiment, she thinks. She swallows nervously. They can only be the Ravenclaws.

To her near right, the benches are stuffed with yellow-trimmed robes. Most of the students crowding these benches are smiling warmly at the newcomers, and one or two of them wave subtly at the students as they file along the hall. Hufflepuffs, Dru forces herself to recall to quash the butterflies in her stomach. Yellow is the colour of Hufflepuff's house. To the far right of Dru is the table with the most movement. The students seated there jostle for the best position to view the newcomers, and they grin and wave openly at the first-years, laughing quietly at their faces when they look over. The trim of their robes is red. Gryffindor, Dru thinks. When she sees a row of red hair and two identical boys waving excitedly to a point just behind her she sighs internally. _Definitely Gryffindor_, _then. _All of the tables are laid with hundreds upon hundreds of glittering golden plates and matching cutlery and goblets, and Dru wishes it could be time to eat as her stomach rumbles loudly.

Her attention shifts from the students and the tables to the Hall itself. It is lit with thousands upon thousands of candles, floating right the way across the Hall about six feet above the tables, bobbing slowly as they burn. The candles even float above the table at the end of the hall, which is stretched out horizontally. The staff sit there, Dru remembers her Uncle telling her, and sure enough, along the table sit adults. In the centre sits a regal man with a long thick beard- Dumbledore, she realises, as she's seen his face a few times on Chocolate Frog cards. Behind them, in the centre of the room opposite the huge double doors of the Hall, sit four enormous hourglasses. Each is filled with crystals of a different colour, corresponding to the four houses. Dru realises these must be the house point hourglasses that Draco mentioned from _Hogwarts: A History_.

Gryffindor's hourglass is decorated with gold filigree that curls around the base and top like flames licking at a log. The 'flames' fall about halfway down the top of the hourglass, but the shapes are hollow and the fiery red crystals can be seen filling the top. The base of the hourglass has thinner shapes and they only rise around a quarter of the base to allow students to see the fallen crystals in comparison to the other houses. Hufflepuff's has intricate straight line patterns forming strange rectangular shapes in a shining black in a thin rim around the top, bottom and the narrow middle, contrasting beautifully with the brilliant yellow gems that are encased within the top of the glass shape. Ravenclaw's has bronze feathery shapes that overlap around the middle and two plain solid bronze bands around the top and bottom of the hourglass, and like Hufflepuff's hourglass, the bronze is the perfect colour to compliment the glittering blue inside the top half of the hourglass. Slytherin's hourglass is the one Dru finds most beautiful, though. It has silver filigree, much like Gryffindor's, except instead of fire, the silver filigree looks exactly like a river. It flows- there is no other word for it, thinks Dru as she stares openmouthed at it- around the top of the hourglass, and in two or three thin strands, so as not to obscure the view of the crystals, it falls gracefully down the glass. Dru swears it looks like it is splashing as it curls around the glass base. Just like the others, the base is decorated more sparsely to allow students to see the crystals. And just as the other crystals are emphasised by the decorations, the green crystals contained within the structure are brought to life by the presence of the complimenting silver.

The students gather in the open space in front of the staff table as they reach the end of the hall. Dru stands close to Draco as they line up, facing the student body, the teachers behind them. The almost-silence of students falls away and Dru can hear herself breathing in the hall as Professor McGonagall fetches a high four legged stool from the side of the room. She places the stool loudly down on the cracked flagstone floor and then gently sets a beaten up old wizard's hat on top. The whole hall seems to hold its breath as it looks at the Sorting Hat, and then suddenly a wide tear in the brim opens like a mouth and the Hat bursts into song, filling the hall with a warm, welcoming voice.

"_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The hat actually _bows_ to the students, who begin to clap and hoot thunderously. Once it has bowed to each four house tables in turn, it returns to being still, looking all the more hattish. Professor McGonagall steps forward as the applause dies away, holding an incredibly long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she announces. "Abbott, Hannah."

Dru watches nervously as a girl a few steps along from her with a ruddy pink face and blonde pigtails stumbles forward and clambers, shaking, onto the stool, stuffing the hat onto her head. It falls right down over her eyes. The whole room pauses and-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" yells the hat.

The Hufflepuff table erupts into cheers as Hannah Abbott lifts the hat gingerly off her head, sets it on the stool and scuttles off down the hall to the end of the Hufflepuff table, where the empty spaces for the first-years sit. Dru watches the Fat Friar wave at her from where he hangs in midair a foot or so below the candles.

"Bones, Susan."

"HUFFLEPUFF!" calls the hat after a moment.

"Boot, Terry."

"RAVENCLAW!" yells the hat barely a second after it touches Boot's head. Dru thinks Boot looks rather like a fish as he all but runs to the Ravenclaw table. As Boot sits at the table, Dru loses all interest in the Sorting. It's all the same to her what house people are sorted in. The only Sortings that really matter to her are her own and her brother's, after all. She half tunes out the other names and loses herself in her thoughts, waiting for her name to be called.

"Gaunt, Druella."

She gulps. Her time has come. Stepping forward holding her shoulders straight, pretending that she couldn't care less about the whole ordeal, she heads for the stool. Pushing herself backwards onto it, she lowers the Sorting Hat onto her head where it flops over her eyes just as it had with the silly Abbott girl.

"Hmmm," comes a voice in her mind. "So much potential."

"Are you the hat?" she thinks back at it curiously, too overwhelmed to feel much fear.

"Clever girl, yes, and the aptitude for asking questions too, wanting to _know_ so very much! You'd go far in Ravenclaw, my girl... but then again I see the bravery of a lion in here, as well as the cunning of the snake! Congratulations on sneaking the grass snake in," it tells her cheekily, and she squeezes her eyes shut in fear.

"Don't say a word," she mentally hisses. "I'll get into trouble before I've even started and Aunt 'Cissa will _kill_ me. Wh-where are you going to put me?"

"Well, well! Perhaps not quite the bravery of the lion yet, then... but certainly in time, yes. And the _threat_, oh poor old me, threatening a hat! There's nothing more for it then-"

Dru hears nothing but silence for what feels like an eternity and then:

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table claps and cheers a little for their newcomer and she takes the hat off, places it gently on the stool and scurries down the hall and around to her new house table. As she walks, she realises the grey trim on her house robes is beginning to shift. It moves from grey to green as she walks and by the time she reaches the Slytherin table, she is wearing robes with a distinctive Slytherin trim. The grey striped tie around her neck has also shifted from grey to shades of green to match, and the Hogwarts logo has morphed into a Slytherin one, complete with snake.

"Granger, Hermione," is the next name called out across the Hall as she slides in next to a girl with long dark brown hair and big brown eyes, another first-year, who smiles wryly at her. "Hi," she whispers at Dru before turning to the Sorting again. Dru sighs in relief as soon as all eyes are turned back to the next first-year. Slytherin was a safe choice, one that Aunt 'Cissa and Uncle Lucius would approve of. She smiles to herself and turns to watch the other students being Sorted.

The rest of the ceremony flies by quickly after that, and Dru is really too relieved to focus on the names of anyone who. The only Sortings that Dru really remembers are:

"Longbottom, Neville." The hat sits on his head for a good five minutes before it finally announces "GRYFFINDOR!"

Longbottom runs towards the table with the Sorting Hat still firmly jammed onto his head, and has to walk back to hand it to the next student amid laughter from all the tables.

"Malfoy, Draco."

As Draco steps forward, Dru tenses. This Sorting is even more important than her own, as Draco's inheritance as a Malfoy basically rests on his becoming a Slytherin. Dru bites her lip as the hat is lowered onto his head, but it barely brushes his hair before yelling "SLYTHERIN!". Dru sighs with relief as Draco scurries over and sits down next to her, touching her shoulder and then her arm as soon as he's reunited with her. She hadn't really realised how much of the tension in her gut was for her adopted brother and whether or not he would still be accepted within his family until he sat down beside her and nonchalantly brushed her arm.

"Potter, Harry." At this, the volume in the Hall leaps higher as the whole student body dissolves into "Harry Potter? _The _Harry Potter? Really?" and strains to get a better look at the Boy Who Lived. He steps forward nervously and sits on the stool. The hat doesn't quite cover his whole face, and Dru sees him mouthing something- though she's too far away to see exactly what- as he engages in mental conversation with the hat. After a few more minutes of this, the whole school is on edge waiting to see the conclusion. Dru, too, is waiting for the result.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The roar that comes from the Gryffindor table is loud enough that Dru sighs, but she knows that really, the cheering would have been the same from any of the house tables. She can hear someone yelling "We got Potter, we got Potter!" in glee and shakes her head. Draco rolls his eyes and slumps forward towards the table gloomily, resting his pointed chin in his hand.

Dru really doesn't care about the other students, so when 'Zabini, Blaise' is announced as a Slytherin, she's relieved. Professor McGonagall rolls the scroll up and tucks it under her arm, then carries the Sorting Hat and the stool away. Dumbledore looks over the students and then gets to his feet. He opens his arms wide and smiles warmly at them, as though nothing could please him more then their being in the room with him.

"Welcome!" he announces. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Nlubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

As he sits down again, the hall erupts with cheers and clapping. Dru notes that the Slytherins look somewhat bored with him and merely clap politely, so she follows suit. She can see some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs laughing. As she joins Slytherin's quiet applause, Draco leans over to her.

"He's insane."

"He's a genius," says another first-year sitting nearby them, some girl with dirty blonde hair and green eyes. "I read about him in _Hogwarts: A History_."

"You don't have to be sane to be a genius," Dru replies curtly.

After another moment's silence amongst the first years, the large serving platters running along the centre of the table shimmer- or so it seems to Dru- and out of nowhere they suddenly hold piles of food- more than Dru has ever seen. The tables, old and well worn, groan with the sudden influx of weight. Dru's eyes widen as she takes it all in, and for a moment she is too shocked to move. The platters hold a mixture of food, most of which she was more than happy to eat. Roast beef, perfectly pink in the middle and sliced thinly, piled high with a drizzle of gravy, thick slices of roast chicken so juicy they didn't actually need gravy- there is a whole platter of chicken and turkey legs too, steaming hot and still with their with golden, crispy skin- and pork chops, too, a towering stack with the fat trimmed right down, so there is just enough to add flavour but not enough to make them greasy; lamb chops, so tender Dru watches as a student spears one with their fork and it falls apart on the journey to the plate. There is a pile of sausages so high directly in front of Dru she can't actually see the student on the other side of the table from her, and bacon cooked till it's crispy. There is steak, too, cooked to a variety of different tastes, all labelled neatly with a flag and spidering writing. The one closest to her says '_Well-Done'_ and Draco is poking at one of the steaks on the top with distaste.

"I want a medium steak," he complains, and no sooner have the words left his mouth than Dru watches the nearest '_Medium_' steak platter send one of the top steaks, still juicy and hot, hovering to Draco's plate. It settles itself firmly on one side and Draco grins. "I could get used to this."

Dru just rolls her eyes and grabs some sausages, and a few slices of chicken. It feels good to not have Aunt 'Cissa watching what she eats, just in case she 'puts on weight'. She sniggers to herself as she piles the chicken high. Aunt 'Cissa had totally missed out on her frequent trips to the kitchen as a child with Draco in tow, begging sandwiches and sometimes entire extra meals from the house-elves.

"Potatoes, Dru?"

Dru looks up. As well as all the meat, there are boiled potatoes, fluffy mashed potatoes with extra butter on top, golden roast potatoes that are crispy beyond compare, thin chips with salt sprinkled on top... Dru spots a pile of Yorkshire puddings and grabs a couple, adding them to her plate along with carrots, peas and some broccoli. She picks up a gravy boat and douses the whole plate in gravy. Next to her, Draco has piled some beef on his plate and is looking for a pot of horseradish sauce. Again, as he asks for it, it jumps up from where it had been lounging further down the table and scurries to him. Dru has to remind him to say thank you. It crashes into a plateful of mint humbugs as it scurries to the next person who has asked, and Dru looks at the plate, bemused. She grabs a drink of pumpkin juice, but notes with happiness that there are other drinks ranging from water through to cloudy lemonade on offer for the students to drink. Just as she's reaching for her knife and fork, she realises that one of the students just a few seats away from her is halfway through a plate of food, one that looks very different to the food that she is choosing from.

"Why are you eating that?" she asks the other Slytherin. She looks like she's a second year, as she's sitting further up the table and appears to be used to the food's rapid appearance. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled back into a plait.

She looks up from her plateful and swallows her mouthful, looking at Dru curiously. "I'm a vegan. I can't eat meat, it makes me sick and I don't get any nutrients from it, so when I joined Hogwarts last year my mother asked McGonagall if there are allowances for special dietary requirements. Turns out, they have a whole separate kitchen down below for that. Like they do the usual kind of thing with no nuts in the food for the whole school and stuff, just in case, but if you've got really specific things like me, then there's a whole section of kitchen where they'll make exactly what you need. I can only really eat raw food, so I get platefuls of really nice stuff like this," she tells Dru with a smile. "There's students who won't eat certain meats because of religious reasons, and the Muslim witches and stuff, they get special meals served to them when they do that fasting thing, they get special passes for curfew exemptions and can come down to the Great Hall in the night, when they're allowed to eat. They get a timetable of their separate meal times. One of our Muslim students, Nasirah, does it."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry you can't eat meat," Dru tells her.

"I'm not. I eat just as well as you guys, and at least I know I'm not going to be in crippling pain tonight once I've eaten." She smiles again at Dru and then turns back to her friends.

By this point, Dru's stomach is doing the equivalent of yelling loudly at her to feed it, so she grabs her cutlery and digs in. She lets out a small hum of pleasure as she tastes the chicken. The food is utterly delicious. It doesn't take either her or Draco very long to finish a plateful, and just as she reaches for the chips to get seconds, a ghost sweeps down the table to study the first years. He is dressed in ancient clothing, and there is silvery blood over his clothing.

"You will all know me as the Bloody Baron. Slytherin house ghost, don't you know." he says by way of introduction. "If you need Peeves to stop doing whatever he ends up doing, send for me. I'm the only other one he'll listen to, except Dumbledore and those infernal redhead twins."

"A pleasure to meet you, Baron," says Pansy Parkinson haughtily. "Thanks for the tip about Peeves."

"Most welcome. Now, I should hope you will all help Slytherin continue their glory and win the House Cup. Six years running, we have won it! It's most excellent to gloat to Sir Nicholas over there- he's the Gryffindor house ghost, the one in the ruff, yes that's him. Nearly Headless Nick, the students call him."

Dru watches as he grabs his ear and _actually pulls his head away from his body_. It rests on his shoulder for a moment until he flicks it back into place and engages in conversation with the first-year Gryffindors again. Dru's eyes settle on Potter, who seems to be settling into Gryffindor with ease. He looks over at her and stares for a moment, until Nearly Headless Nick says something else. The Bloody Baron tuts under his breath at his actions and settles into the empty seat next to Draco. He lapses into silence and proceeds to stare blankly ahead, ignoring all that is going on around him. Draco cringes away from him, leaning into Dru.

Once the students finish their meals, the food and residue and gravy remains on the plates fades from view, leaving the plates and platters glittering and clean once more. Dru takes her goblet of pumpkin juice and finishes it, pouring herself a new one from the jugs that still line the tables. She looks up at the staff table to see that she can finally see all of them on their raised platform. Professor Dumbledore takes place of honour in the middle, with Professor McGonagall to his right, as Deputy Headmistress. The other staff members stretch out to either side of them. Dru sees Severus Snape- Professor Snape, she reminds herself- and nods to him quickly, glad to see a familiar face from around the Manor growing up. He looks directly at her, but gives her no recognition. After a brief second he turns back to a small, squirrelly looking man who holds his hands close in front of his chest as he speaks. He wears a royal purple turban on his head, and Dru wonders why he's dressed so strangely. Around her, the first-years have dissolved into conversations on blood purity. The girl sitting to her left is strangely quiet as children of the pureblood wizarding families proclaim their purity to the others.

"I'm Draco," Draco helpfully supplies. "Draco Malfoy, of course. We've traced our purity back sixteen generations."

"Blaise Zabini," says the boy opposite him. Dru remembers he was the last to be sorted. His skin is darker than hers and Draco's, a typically Mediterranean colour with big dark eyes and hair such a dark brown it looks black in the candlelight. His hair curls a little on the top of his head, but is cropped too short to be unruly. "We're an Italian family, and we go back at least fifteen generations. We'd go back further I'm sure," he says looking coolly at Draco, "except for the fact that some bumbling idiot sent a spell awry and burned down the Record Room at the old Zabini Villa near Sorrento in the early 1560s. They got the contemporaries on the lists again, of course, but many of the older family members were crossed off the list. Mother and I visit frequently."

Draco smiled politely and offered Blaise his hand to shake. "Fascinating. Do you speak Italian?"

"Sì, per lo più. Volte mi dimentico le parole." He shakes Draco's hand. Seeing Draco's bewildered expression, he translates. "Yes, mostly- sometimes I forget words. English is my mother tongue, and I learned Italian as a child, rather than growing up speaking it."

"Ah. Pleasure to meet you. This is my sister, Druella." He nudges Dru, who turns to face them.

"Dru, if you would. I hate Druella. Pleasure," she says, smiling sweetly and offering her hand to Blaise.

"Blaise Zabini. Druella Malfoy, then, I presume?"

"No, I'm Draco's adopted sister. Dru Gaunt. I'm a Gaunt. I'm told my bloodline is incredibly pure, but I have no family to ask."

"A Gaunt? Yes, I've heard of that name. Your family would be the oldest wizarding family I know of, if they were still a part of your life. It's a pleasure to meet you," he says to her kindly, shaking her hand as he had Draco's. His grip is firm and sure. Dru knows that he's done her a great favour by overlooking the lack of proof she has about her heritage, and that it's probably only her link to Draco as his adopted sister that led him to do so. She's more likely to make friends with the pureblood wizarding families if she has both a Zabini and a Malfoy backing up her claim to the Gaunt family heritage.

Pansy Parkinson, one of the girls from the carriage on the train, is sitting just nearby. "I should hope we are good friends, Dru," she says in a sickly sweet, sing-song tone. She's looking right at Draco, not Dru, and Dru sighs.

The other first-years nearby them introduce themselves, some more reluctantly than others. Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode all claim pure-blood status, and then there is a tiny smattering of muggleborn Slytherins, who all seem somewhat more reluctant to introduce themselves. The girl to the left of Dru is one such girl. When the little group around them turn reluctantly to her, awaiting an introduction, she sighs.

"Rosalee Elizabeth Dark, but call me Lissa. My family call me Rose and I hate it," she says by way of introduction, her gaze sweeping round the group.

"I don't recognise your surname," Millicent says after a moment. "Are you pureblood from abroad?"

"No," she replies calmly, looking every bit as comfortable among their group as Pansy or Blaise. "I'm a muggleborn." Her gaze somehow manages to get incredibly cold, as if challenging anyone to speak against her blood status, although Dru can't pinpoint a physical change in her appearance or body language.

The whole group is silent, weighing up the importance of her presence in Slytherin house against her low blood status. Dru realises that Lissa is shaking and decides to speak. "Dark, huh? That's a pretty good name for this house, I'd say. Do you know how far back the last wizard in your family was?"

"I haven't a clue," Lissa replies honestly, glad for the opportunity to talk. "I didn't even know that there had to be a wizard in my family at some point for me to have magical talent."

"Oh yes," Blaise joins in, obviously making his decision based on Dru's response to the girl. Some of the other muggleborn Slytherins have been entirely blanked from conversation at this point; Lissa is lucky. "The magical talent can lie dormant in muggle bloodlines for centuries. You may want to look into your family lineage. If you're related to a powerful witch or wizard from history, well, it would improve your standing in the house, to say the very least. Dark is a good name for a new wizarding family- it's a shame you're a girl, you'd lose the name if you married."

"I'll have to do that. I think my Aunt has my family tree, one that goes back quite a ways, I remember her saying she'd traced back to the 1600s. Thank you... Blaise, right?"

"Yes, Blaise. It's a pleasure to help. If you have any more questions about famous wizards, I'm sure one of us will be able to answer."

"If you want to look through the Wizarding Register, I think Hogwarts has an old copy in the library," Pansy tells her. She smiles gratefully and then stares into her goblet of juice.

"So, who's-"

Millicent is interrupted by the appearance of the desserts. Dru's eyes widen in surprise. There are blocks of ice cream in every flavour imaginable, kept from melting with Cooling Charms, and apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs, jam doughnuts, trifle, jelly, rice pudding, and an assorted selection of fruit. Dru helps herself to a jam doughnut and an enormous slice of apple pie, lifting one of the jugs to find that what was gravy has been replaced with thick cream. She pours an obscene amount over her pie as she bites into the doughnut. Thick strawberry jam drips onto her fingers and she rolls her eyes, wiping the excess off onto her napkin before picking up the spoon and digging into the pie.

"Happy about the pie, Dru? I know it's your favourite," Draco asks her as she takes her first bite. She just mmm's at him and focuses on her food again, trying to work out how best to move to make sure she can secure a position of respect in the first-years' minds. The only link she currently has to ensure any respect from her peers is the tenuous sibling bond she shares with her brother. Sure, Zabini has publicly shown that he believes her claim of pureblood status is true, but that's mostly a ploy to show full respect for Draco, who's firmly in her camp, and also happens to be the heir to probably the most powerful English pureblood wizarding family, now Pavo has decided to disown the family. It's an act less about her, and more about her brother and his power. Dru knows the game well. Draco and Aunt 'Cissa spent hours teaching her it as a girl, and she can play it just as well as anyone. Draco has done her a great favour by introducing her to Blaise Zabini, because otherwise, she was unlikely to be a part of the group at all. She has already pushed what little luck she has in the group by speaking to Lissa instead of outright ignoring her as they had the rest of the muggleborns. Politics has already come into play in the pureblood elitists. Of course, slowly the personal ties would be built and politics would be less about status, Dru knows, but that will take some time, particularly in this group of friends. Even then, there would be battling for power regardless, but eventually the playing field would open up. Or so Dru hopes, at least, as she finishes her plate. She looks up just in time to see Potter clap a hand to what she thinks is the scar on his forehead and wince. She frowns, wondering what could have caused it to hurt.

Eventually, the students all finish their desserts and the plates fade once more to their original sparkling clean state. Professor Dumbledore stands and opens his arms wide once again, smiling broadly at the students.

"Ahem! Just a few more words, now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices for you. First-years should take note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that, too," he says, his eyes focused somewhere on the Gryffindor table. Of course, thinks Dru, it would be Gryffindors that think it's a lark to go into a forbidden forest.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term, and anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch by the end of this week. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Dru stares at Dumbledore. Some of the students laugh, but they are very few and far between. There is some hissing from the Ravenclaw table as students start to wonder what exactly is in the third-floor corridor that could result in a 'very painful death'.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cries Dumbledore. Dru watches as the staff collectively paste a bland, polite smile on their faces and rise to their feet. Dumbledore pulls his wand out from his robes and flicks it once, as if trying to shake a spot of water off it. A golden ribbon flies out of the end of it and writes the words to the school song in the air above the table.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," he tells them all with a twinkle in his eye, "and off we go!"

The entire room dissolves into the most discordant cacophony Dru has ever heard, with some students bellowing the song as loud as their lungs will allow and others genuinely singing the words. Dru can hear a soprano voice from somewhere in the Hufflepuff midst reaching a note she's not sure is even possible from a human, so she focuses on the words above Dumbledore's head instead of thinking about it further:

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling,_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot._

Sleepy and with a full belly, she can't pull a tune to mind straight away, so as Draco sings the song right by her in some tune from a nursery rhyme they heard as children, she simply mumbles her way through the words, speaking them aloud without a tune as fast as she can. The students all finish at different times until the rest of the hall awaits the red-haired Weasley twins, who appear to have chosen an impossibly slow funeral march as the tune for their Hogwarts song. Dumbledore conducts their last few lines with his wand, and as they finish, he is the one who begins the round of applause for them, and claps the loudest throughout.

"Ah, music!" he announces, wiping his eyes with his robe sleeve. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

"First-years! First-year Slytherins, if you would please follow us!" The Slytherin prefects call them over. The boy is a thin, angular creature with a distinctive scar on his left cheekbone and hair even paler than Draco's white-blond. The girl is his absolute opposite, her skin a chocolate colour and her dreadlocked hair pulled back from her face. "We'll wait here until the other years have gone and show you to the Slytherin common room," the girl tells them.

The Great Hall empties surprisingly quickly, and while the teachers linger in the room, soon it is just the four houses' first-years and their respective prefects. They all lead the first-years out. Dru notices that the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors head up the moving stairs, all bundled together so as to fit on the stairs. Dru wonders where in the upper levels their common rooms are as the prefects shepherd them towards a flight of stairs. The hufflepuffs break away from them at this point and continue further down the corridor. The first-year Slytherins follow the prefects down the stairs and into what can only be the dungeons.

"Remember, guys, you're not going to find the common room unless you can find your way down here. There are markers to show you the way to the common room- the snakes on the torch brackets, do you see them here?" the girl pauses and points them out. The snake is an addition to the black metal brackets that seems to fit perfectly into the design, but is still noticeable if you are looking for it. The snake on the bracket nearest to them has its tail pointing down the corridor, and its head pointing towards the stairs behind them. "If you follow the snakes, you'll find the area with the common room in it. You'll be able to recognise the entrance if you're in the area once you've seen it. There are books, and a portrait of Merlin. He'll help you find the wall if you ask him nicely and he knows you're a Slytherin, but he can't tell you the password, he's not allowed. We look out for our own in Slytherin, and if you get locked out at any point and can't remember the password, Merlin has another portrait in the common room that he'll use to get someone to come out and collect you, as long as there is someone in there."

Dru files the information away as the pair lead them down the corridor. For all that the dungeons seem to sprawl forever with odd twists and spiral staircases down to lower levels- "they're off limits, and I wouldn't recommend going down there, I've heard tales of ghosts and other poltergeists who are less likely to prank you and more likely to... well, just don't go down there, okay?"- Dru realises that she's perfectly at ease knowing the path back to the levels above as she follows the other students round a maze of twists and turns. Anyone else... well, they'd likely to be uneasy at best down here. By now, Dru is so tired she's falling over her own feet, and she has to grab hold of Draco's arm, as he's walking beside her. He's just as sleepy, stumbling like she is, and after a moment- appearances and politics be damned- he grabs her hand. She can feel Lilith sliding round and round her arm, impatiently, but she understands that her mistress can't talk to her right now and stays quiet just as she'd been asked on the train. Just then, she and the others round one last corner into what looks like a secluded reading room. Dru is too tired to look at it properly, but she makes note of Merlin's portrait smiling fondly at them all.

"Welcome to Slytherin!" he booms at them from his comfortable seat in his portrait. Now you're here, I can go in for the night, correct?"

"Yes, sir," the male prefect says, stifling a yawn of his own and running a hand through his hair.

"Excellent. See you inside!" He walks away from the group in his portrait until he vanishes from sight. The clearly exhausted Prefects turn to the first-years.

"Remember the password, guys. Just in case you've forgotten, it will be on the house notice board until it's changed. We change it a couple of times a term, so keep it in mind." The two turn back to the wall just to the left of Merlin's portrait, and in unison speak the password aloud: "Opheodrys vernalis."

The wall shudders backwards silently, and then slides away to the left seamlessly, leaving wide corridor lit by lanterns floating near the ceiling like the Great Hall. Dru follows the others through, and once they are all in the common room, the stone door slides closed behind them. There are the odd few students still up, but for the most part, most of the students are at least shut away in their dorms. The prefects by this point look ready to drop. "Listen, guys. You know at least half as much about Slytherin as we could tell you. We're all shattered," says the boy. "Come back tomorrow evening for your welcome talk, okay? Honestly, it's against the rules but you can cope one day without a welcome talk. Girls' dorms are through the doorway in the dome on the right, boys' on the left. You all know your rooms, right? Good. Right, 'night."

Dru follows the girls round the corner to the right and into one of the rooms for the first-year girls, the one she will be spending the year sleeping in. Once the girls have each picked a bed, the trunks standing in the middle of the rooms levitate into position at the end of each of their beds. She barely even bothers to look at the other girls in her dorm while she undresses and pulls on her black pyjamas that the house-elves have taken from her trunk. The house-elves have also had the foresight to put Lilith's tank out, and return it to its original size from where it was. It sits on the windowsill to the right of her bed. Dru lets her snake slither off her wrist and into it once she has checked the heating spells are still working.

"_Mistress takes a long time to put Lilith home,_" Lilith complains as she slides into the comforting wood shavings and grass on the bottom of her tank. "_Lilith is hungry, Lilith is tired of hiding on Mistress' wrist, poor Lilith, so ignored and so lonely, not even permitted to speak..."_

Dru ignores the presence of her room mates and decides to reply to her new pet, although she does so by leaning over the tank and whispering as quietly as she can. "_Sorry, Lilith, I know it was a long day. Thank you for not disturbing me, though._"

Lilith hisses appreciatively. "_Mostly Lilith sleeps,_" she admits. "_Mistress is warm. And Lilith is not so hungry really. Many smells, though, in the loud place._" Lilith flicks her tongue out. "_This place does not have so many smells._"

Pansy notices Dru has smuggled a snake in. "You managed to get a snake past McGonagall? Nice."

"Thanks, Pansy. Her name is Lilith, she's a grass snake." Dru is relieved that Pansy either hasn't noticed her ability to talk to snakes, or at least is choosing to overlook it, and is also glad that Pansy seems to think the snake is a good thing. At the minute, any political points she can gain with the other pureblood students is a good thing in her eyes.

Pansy smiles at her, grabbing a sleep mask from in her trunk. "Lilith is a pretty name. I think I'm going to sleep now, Dru. Goodnight," she says to her, crawling onto her bed and sliding under the covers.

"Goodnight." With that, Pansy pulls the curtains on her deep green four poster bed closed, and aside from the others settling in their bed, there is silence.

Dru gives in and gets in bed too, although she's too tired to shut the curtains once she's managed to scramble on the slightly too-high bed. Instead, she settles under the covers, smiling at the fact that the bed is almost as big as her one at home, and is just as soft. The pillows behind her head are fluffy and clean. It takes moments for her to drift into sleep.


End file.
